Play The Cards You Are Dealt
by JakeCrown
Summary: An altered and extended version of Play To Your Best Card. A self-insert into the fandom without all that stupid romance and drama bull. Conquering the world in a brutal and creative way using modern learnings and foreknowledge of G.R.R.M's work. Warning for war crimes and brutality. Drama in pt 10 for plot purposes. Can't help it.
1. Chapter 1

First part of my Re-write of Play To Your Best Card. Plot changes, more detailed characters, ect. I think I have messed around with the ASOIAF fandom enough to bring beautiful chaos and creative brutality to the setting in a fun and epic way. i will do one or two parts a day or so until complete or Idiot reviewers piss me off too much to post them here anymore.

**_Play The Cards You Are Dealt..._**

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed as my toe collided with something that should not be on my floor on the way to the bathroom. I had just awoken with a strange feeling and did what I always do with strange feelings in the middle of the night.

_Go take a shit._

I rubbed my toe and set back on the bed. Sleep obscured my vision, but I could sense something was wrong. It was way too quiet.

_Did I forget to turn my fan on?_

As the pain settled in my foot, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

I jerked as I finally opened my eyes and noticed that the room I occupied was not my own. My heartbeat sped up as stress hormones were released into my bloodstream. My breath became rapid and I felt myself begin to shake as I looked about the room.

Panicking never helps. I tried to control my breathing, unsuccessfully, as I took stock of the cell I awoke in. I was very pale and felt sick on top of the panic. I was wearing a white fucking dress.

Gray stone walls, a feather mattress on wooden four-post bed. A wooden table and chair, with a flame lit lamp. large shuttered window and a trunk at the foot of the bed. A large wooden door with a O ring instead of a doorknob. I looked up and saw wooden planks as the ceiling.

No cameras visible.

"I told you if you ever put me on Scare Tactics, I would fucking kill you!" I finally exploded verbally in anger and fear.

My voice was high pitched. I must have a cold to cause the paleness and voice my subconscious supplied.

"I swear to god I will car bomb the executive producer if you assholes don't come clean right fucking now!" I yelled again.

Natural stress response. I trembled in fear and anger.

I won't open that door, thats what they want.

_TV Studio Bastards!_

I hefted the surprisingly heavy chair and took it to the window and threw it. The wooden shutters shattered. I heard fast footsteps coming from the other side of the door. I looked down. Ten foot drop at most.

The moon was full and I had a clear view of a path to lights in the distance. It was an ocean or lake-front property as I could see the moonlight shine off water in one direction.

I heard the door creak open as I jumped.

A female voice asked "Honey, whats wrong?" from the cell above.

I landed bare foot in ankle deep mud and started running as fast as I could towards the lights in the distance.

Lights mean people.

People means cops.

The stone house was on a hill overlooking what looked kinda like Hogsmeade Village at Universal Studios.

_'I'll sue those motherfuckers. Then I'll find the man who thought kidnapping me was a good idea. I'll strangle him with his wife's guts after I make him eat his dog and children.'_ Were my thoughts as I ran barefoot the way too smelly to be Universal Studios' mud paved street.

What sounded like 'Tire wreck' echoed in the woman's voice behind me as dogs started to bark. I sped up as much as I could down the muddy hill and towards the Village below.

_I sure as hell don't want to be bit by a dog on top of the rest of this shit._

I was well into the dark town by the time I had to stop, lest my legs fall off and heart explode. I coughed and panted, gathering my energy to run again. I stood in the middle of 'what I suspect is not' mud street and looked for a house with a porch light on.

It looked worse than the slums of Rio. Bums sleeping in every alley I could see. Straw roofs and no electric poles. Raw, unpainted, rotting wood huts lined the road as far as I could see

_Where the fuck am I?_

I coughed into my fist and was about to run again as the barks got louder when a hand grabbed my shoulder. I was spun around and beheld the biggest fucking hobo I have ever seen. His hand's grip became painful. Dressed in brown thin rags, he smelled worse than the 'mud' underfoot, and thats saying something.

"Whas a little girl like you doin all lonesome out here?" he wheezed through cracked, dirt smeared lips.

My heart beat faster. "Not a girl." I growled through clenched teeth.

"I don't mind, I'll keep ya company anyway" He wheezed again with a chuckle and licked his cracked lips.

_I'll be damned if I escape Universal Studios to get ass-assaulted by a fucking hobo!_

My leg jerked up in between the giant's. My shin collided with his danglies hard enough to loosen his grip. His eyes were clenched shut as his face twisted in agony. He obviously didn't expect the knife hand to his unprotected throat.

I lost it at that point, yelling and screaming obscenities as I stomped and kicked any part of the dying man's body exposed from his fetal position. I circled his prone choking form, oblivious to the world around me. I had a target to blame for this insanity and I wanted him to suffer.

I was grabbed from behind again and lifted bodily off the ground by the back of the dress thing I was wearing. Another giant, this one way bigger than the bum, lifted me to eye level. "Do you know how worried your mother is, Tyrek?"

_'Tire wreck?'_

_'My mother did this?'_

I spat in the Giant's eye and tried to nut-kick him like the bum a minute ago.

A bunch of bright colors exploded in front of my eyes.

The world tilted and the mud rose up to meet me.

I woke slowly to the sound of sobbing female. With some vividly fresh memories of last waking up, I decided to play possum. I felt a soft feather bed under me, this time with silk sheets.

My actions replayed through my mind.

This was too vivid to be a TV show set up. I had felt that man's trachea crush from my knife-hand. The ghetto I had ran to was well used and lived in.

Something fishy was going on, because if this was reality, I would be in handcuffs right now.

I could hear no cars, motorcycles, planes, nor hum of air-conditioning.

Murderer. That man's death is my fault...

_Oh well, no skin off my balls._

You shouldn't try to rape an orange belt in Hapkido.

_Or anyone for that matter, Its just asking for trouble._

The adrenaline surged as I thought about how to escape. I put much effort in maintaining an even breath as I listened to the sounds around me. Listened for anything that can help me get back home and out of this insanity.

The sound of wind from an open window. A possible route, though they had probably learned from last time and put me in a room higher off the ground. In a room with someone else on top of it.

The sobbing female's voice was familiar, I assume it was the one that opened the door in the room I last awakened in. The bitch that sicked the the dogs and giants on me as I ran. She must be crying about her rapist accomplice I had ended violently.

The rustle of cloth that must be the teary felon's clothes. Unless she is naked and has a curtain that moves in tune with her pathetic weeping.

Muffled footsteps.

Leather soles... Fancy footsteps. I love leather and can recognize the sound of a good leather boot a mile soles are rare outside of dress shoes and very, very rare in boots.

No sound of a door opening as the footsteps grew as close as the sobbing on my opposite. No door opening means no lock to keep me in.

_Good news at last!_

I was about to take a swing at the bitch before they finally got around to shackling me and book it when I heard the giant's voice speak. The voice of the second giant from the ghetto. So he and the weeping criminal were in cahoots after all.

What did my mom have to do with these nut-cases?

She knew damn well I'd kill any actor trying to 'scare' me for funnies quicker than lightning. I'm not the kind of guy that goes down without a fight. Alien, ghost, demon or little rat midget, I will grab the nearest large object and throw it as hard as I can before charging with the next largest.

On top of that, my younger siblings and her career keep her way too busy to plan a kidnapping of her twenty-four year old son. My sneakiest little sister would have found out and texted me about it anyway if my mom had anything to do with it. So she must be here against her will.

What about my brother or sisters?

That is unforgivable.

You lay a finger on my mom,...

You are dead...

Deader than dead...

Live for ten years naked in my torture room kinda dead.

Don't even ask about touching my sisters.

_Do you know how worried your mother is? _Were the giant's words.

Rage burned.

I strained to keep my breathing steady as I listened to the giant speak.

"The boy just got a little knock on the head. He will be fine Darlessa. There is no need to cry. He is strong, like his father. When I caught up with him, He had crushed a full grown man's throat with his bare hands."

_WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON?_

The whiny bitch cried harder. My eyes opened and I sat up quick. I turned my face to the giant and glared as hard as I could.

_I want his fucking face to melt off._

"Okay, game over. You win. Now who the are you? Where the hell am I? Who the fuck is that bitch and why is she crying?" I spat out in my newly high pitched voice. I gestured at the giant man, the room and the saddest criminal I had ever seen in turn.

The woman was sun worn and looked in her late thirties or early thirties. She had long curly blond hair and wore a gray gown over what I could tell was a corseted waist. The male was well built and looked in his mid to late fifties and had short trimmed hair of blond and silver. He wore one of those weird shirts that you have to lace the sleeves onto like at a Renaissance festival. His fine boots were black and his pants and shirt were red with cats stitched on in gold thread.

The woman was staring at me with wide eyed shock " You..hiccup... You don't know me?" She asked with a whisper.

I turned my glare to her. "Never seen you before, whiny cunt."

The woman went from sad to furious in seconds. She turned to the man and hissed. "I'll kill you, Kevan!" She launched herself at 'Kevan' like a lion on a gazelle and started slapping him.

I used the distraction to bolt for the door. I ran through the doorway and turned to the right where 'Kevan's footsteps came from. I was already moving too fast to stop my collision headfirst into a red metal wall. I bounced off and landed on my ass, holding my head.

"Ow" I groaned in pain looked up through blurred vision. The ringing in my ears got louder. I paled.

It was Fucking Victor the Vampire Elder!

The blurriness cleared momentarily.

I felt sick.

It was not a vampire, but worse.

I vomited onto Tywin's boots.

"I think I have a concussion." I said as once more, I passed out.

I rolled over and groaned into the pillow. My hangover is awful. I felt the throbbing spikes behind my eyes intensify as I remembered the fucked up dream I just had. My stomach rumbled. I need a bacon cheese burger. They get rid of hangovers faster than Tylenol.

"He's waking my lady." said a voice.

Jerking in surprise and opening my eyes. I immediately started screaming into a fat curly blond man's face. He wore gray robes and a chain around his neck.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I screamed and pulled the blanket up over my head.

_Will this nightmare never end?_

I squeezed my eyes shut and wailed into the blanket like a dying animal.

The female voice I recognized from the dream spoke up. "You are safe sweet-ling. Mommy is here."

_Oh Hell No!_

Sobbing into the blanket like a little girl, I had no concept of how long I ignored everything they said and bawled my eyes out into the blanket. I didn't feel like a grown man anymore. I was overemotional and couldn't control it.

Eventually enough endocrine hormones kicked in for me to bring my tears to a slightly less embarrassing sniffle. I lowered the blanket enough to expose only my eyes. I was in the room I had first escaped from. The 'Darlessa' woman and what I assume is a Maester sat in chairs beside my bed.

"Do you know who I am?" inquired the fatty-boom-ba with girlie golden curls and gray robes.

I hiccuped and gave a muffled "No" from under the blanket. The female had not broken into sobs as previously, but had tears leaking from her puffy red eyes.

"Do you know what year is is?" The overfed Shirley Temple impersonator inquired again.

I shook my head negative and regretted it. It felt like needles digging into the back of my eyes.

The Maester leaned in closer and held up three fat sausage fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three." Was my reply, once again muffled by the blanket.

The Maester smiled in what he thinks is a kindly way and asked, "Are you in pain?"

I answered yes and tried not to move.

"One more question and I will give you something to ease the pain. What is your name?"

I have no choice but to lie.

_Gotta play the cards you are dealt in life, folding is death._

"I don't know" was the muffled lie.

"Your name is Tyrek Lannister. You are nine years old. The year is 293 after Aegon's Conquest. This is your mother Darlessa." The master spoke as he uncorked a vial and moved closer. "Can you repeat what I just said?"

"You said one more question and you will give me something to relieve pain. That was question number two and I want the pain relieved now."

As I drifted into the familiar feeling of opium fogginess, I heard the Maester speak to my 'mother'. "His memory is damaged, but he can still learn and thus, he will not be simple-minded from the injury. I have seen this a few times and his memory will most likely return soon."

_Not fucking likely..._


	2. Chapter 2

Guest chapter 1 . 16m ago  
>Huh? I don't understand how he panic and act so outregously. Having hangover? Running around? Vomiting? What kind of mc is this? So pathetic. How you want to conquer the world if you just panic and want to punch first then ask question later.<p>Tyrek's body is nine years old. The brain cannot separate thoughts and emotions as effectively as adults at that age. Rash and outrageous actions are to be expected from a nine year old whether there is an adult mind in the brain or not. I have no idea what an mc in this context is and thus, cannot answer that one. Any children with the mind of an adult would still be very, very impulsive. What angry and scared nine year old have you met that doesn't punch first and ask questions later? Use your brain. You Dumb Fuck.<p>

Part 2.

My first week in this world was mind numbingly boring. Two days spent in a heroin induced daze. Another five days of bed rest under the guard of my mother whom I referred to as Darla. The Maester, Theomore, also visited every day. I had seen no one else.

Baring the uneducated and ignorant medieval female personality, Darla wasn't such bad company. Her long blond hair and corseted wardrobe were easy on the eyes. She may be my mother, but I was a Lannister now... and didn't consider her my mother at all. She was determined to get me to acknowledge her as my mother. I was determined not to. It was not hard to break the imbecilic woman down to tears, which I did in spite all the third day. I've felt a little guilty about it when she stayed kind to me.

I sort of behaved since then. She was getting used to my bluntness, almost. Still a very teary woman though.

I had convinced her to let me have the one book of my father, Tygett Lannister. 'Houses of Westeros' was about 100 years out of date and was far more picture than words. Full of sigils, banners, and, house names I was going to try and memorize.

On the eighth morning, she was especially teary when she entered my room with bread, cheese, and, watered wine. I greeted her and went back to my only entertainment. She usually just stitched things at my bedside and left me to myself. I personally dislike alcohol and only drink it socially, here, there was no choice but to drink.

"You were supposed to leave this morning." She said after we 'broke fast'.

My head popped up from the book. "Really, I can get out of this room?" I blurted hopefully.

She gave me the 'mom' look.

"No, you were so excited to leave the Rock and go to page for King Robert. I was going to Ashemark to live with your grandparents." She informed me as if I were supposed to know already.

_Glad I fucked that trip up!_

I would like to throw together a crazy and successful plan to conquer the world, but, I am not Martyn Lannister from a fantasy. This was reality and I had to face it the hard way like everyone else. Maybe this was punishment for making one too many 'Dude nailed to a stick for the salvation of mankind' jokes, and this was my punishment.

"So, are we going to Ashemark together then?" I asked. I hadn't heard of the place before she told me of the seat of House Marbrand. If I hadn't heard of it, It might survive the coming war.

"No, not anymore." She whispered sadly.

_And here come the water-works again..._

"Oh c'mon, Darla. Why are you crying this time?" I asked exasperated as she started crying again.

_I swear, the woman is a tear machine._

"You are going to squire instead of page." Is what I could make out through the blubbering.

Okay, I polish swords instead of hold wine glasses.

_Why the hell is she still crying?_

I gave her space and started to read again.

A few minutes later, she got her sobs under control enough to continue. "Your -hiccup- Uncles decided that since you show so much martial prowess at a young age. -hiccup- Like your father." she started blubbering again. "You are old enough to squire" She finished through sobs.

_Oh My God! This Whiny Woman!_

"Okay, so I have to fetch the breastplate spreader at the drunkard's whim. I won't have to carry twenty gallons of wine if I'm not a page, So why are you still crying Darla? Knock it off. It's annoying."

"Not.. Not the King."She steadily started to cry harder.

"The Mountain!" She wailed as she threw herself on my chest, bawling into my nightshirt.

I felt myself begin to tear up too.

I shouldn't have puked on Tywin Lannister's boots.

6666666666666666666666666666

"Come on boy. Quit gawking and get a move on, we need to get to the Keep before Ser Gregor leaves." Polliver's voice made me start so hard I nearly fell out of the saddle. I was unbalanced enough as it was. I turned back around and kept my face stone cold.

Never thought I would miss Darla. Over the last month, she had grown on me. I would never see her again.

I had woken this morning to Darla's weeping as three men men took me away without any notice. She had grabbed my father's great-sword off the wall and put it over my shoulder in a baldric. It was almost as big as I and was diagonal across my back. It was way too fucking heavy for me to swing, especially with the solid gold hilt. She was blubbering at me for a good five minutes before the Mountain's men had lost their patience and dragged me up onto a horse. I had managed to grab a small smooth handled knife and put it in my belt.

We left Lannisport heading south down the River Road at dawn. Clegane's Keep was a good day's ride south down the River Road. A million different murder scenarios went through my head. All three of these bastards were rapists and murderers.

Like hell Tywin would send Clegane his new squire with three rapists. They were going to do horrible things to me before killing me. All because I puked on that ass-hat's feet.

If today is the day I get brutally murdered in the wilderness, I will not go without a fight. I will bite off my own tongue before they get me though. Let them do what they want with this body, I will bleed to death and not have to face what that thirteen year old girl in the books did.

Eggon, Cleft pallet and a mean fucking attitude.

Polliver, Tall as fuck and just as evil.

Raff, Smooth voiced and utterly sadistic.

I kept my my mouth shut and tried to listen to their conversations. The sick feeling in my gut getting worse and worse as we rode.

A few hours ride left in the day, Raff rode up to my left.

_I'm Not Dying Without A Fucking Fight!_

"Heard you killed a grown man last month with your bare hands, any truth to it?" He asked in a deceptively kind voice.

My heartbeat sped up. I could feel the blood pounding in my neck. I nodded to the question without looking his way.

"Hows a little thing like you do that?" He inquired again with humor in his voice.

_I'm Not Dying Without A Fucking Fight!_

My face glared as I spat. "I kicked him in the balls to bring him down to my level and crushed his fucking throat."

All three of the professional murderers burst out laughing.

_And I'm going to take at least one of you bastards to hell with me!_

I jerked my reins to the left and sent my horse bumping into his. At the same time, my left hand stabbed the dagger from my waist into the Sweetling's opened mouth.

The blood spurted out of the gaping wound in the back of his throat as I withdrew the dagger with a wet sucking sound. I felt the warm blood gush over me as he grabbed my shoulders and tried to throw me. Instead we both slid sideways.

We both hit the ground. Me flat on my back as my breath left me. He on his head as his neck snapped with a sickening crack.

Pity..._ I would have enjoyed the look in the fucker's eyes as he choked on blood._

I tried to rise as Eggon got off his horse and unsheathed his sword. "You killed my friend you little shit." He screeched in his high pitched voice.

The heavy sword on my back had me trapped. I started sawing at the leather baldric strap as fast as I could as Eggon grinned and started walking towards me.

Polliver, still on his horse yelled something at Eggon from behind him and he turned around.

I didn't give a shit to listen to what they had to say.

Straining at the fraying leather, It finally snapped.

i got up and run at the turned back. I jumped up onto Eggon's back, screaming, and brought the knife down as hard as I could onto the back of his neck. I felt the dagger hilt slip in my blood soaked hand and slide off the hilt, onto the blade. I could feel it scrape on bone as I tightened my grip on the blade and drew my arm back for another stab.

Eggon dropped face first into the ground as I fell off his back.

I felt no pain in my injured hand as I gripped the blade tight and jabbed it over and over into the side of his neck.

When the second dead man's body stopped twitching, I remembered there was a third.

I looked up, dripping with the life's blood of two dead men, expecting to die any second and panting with exhaustion.

Polliver sat on his horse a few feet away with his sword still sheathed and a smirk on his face.

"I didn't know you were like Lord Tywin when It came to being laughed at. I'll make sure to let the other men know."

_WHAT?_

"I gotta say, I don't think I've ever seen a nine year old lordling kill two armored and armed men with just a dinner knife before... Gregors' gonna like you."


	3. Chapter 3

Not dying took quite the load off. My hand cut was not very deep, but it stung like a bitch. Raff and Eggon's fat purses jangled from my waist in tune with my horses steps.

_I need to clean it soon before infection sets in._

After dragging the naked bodies off the road and loading their horses, we had lost the bit of day we had left to reach Clegane's Keep. I really don't want to be on this road at all. I want much less to be food for a wandering wolf pack or lion. Mosquitoes are also a great irritant once the sun lowers in the sky.  
>We rode to the nearest peasant's farm. Polliver held the horses while I knocked on the door. I heard hushed whispers.<p>

"Whos knockin'?" A deep male voice asked from inside.

"Tyrek Lannister and companion. We need shelter for the night. I have two dragons for the trouble." I answered in the politest voice I could fake. I slapped a mosquito on my neck with a grimace.

I glanced over at my companion. Polliver had a disappointed look on his face. He looked at the ground and shook his head, grumbling quietly to himself.

"Go away. Ain't No Lannister that travels with just one guard. Much less a boy. Liar." was the reply from inside.

I lost my temper and kicked the bottom of the solid door to my regret. The door was much more solid than my foot.

Now my hand and foot hurt.

"I said I will pay gold to take shelter for the night" I tried again to stay civil.

I slid two dragons under the door and into the sturdy wooden farmhouse. "I am injured and need to take care of my wound."

According to Polliver, lions and wolves both are attracted by the scent of human blood. I didn't doubt it.

"We can't help you. No maester here. Move along."

_I had already paid them for the night's shelter._

"You are going to steal from a Lannister?" I yelled, steaming mad.

"You ain't no Lannister. Get gone!" Was shouted from inside in turn.

I turned to face Polliver. I threw him Eggon's sack of coin.

"You were right, lets do it your way." I muttered.

_See if I try it the nice way next time._

Polliver's boot caved the door in with a crash. The screaming started from inside as I waited with the horses for a few seconds. When the Male's screams ended and a woman's wailing started I led my horse into the house.

Horses are too valuable to stay outside.

A man's body lay face down in a pool of blood just in the door. I took the gold coins out of his hand as I passed. Polliver had the wife bent over the table.

It was a one room house with a stench that was horrendous. Two little twin girls sat huddled in the corner of the straw bed. Their little faces were twisted in anguish, streaming tears as they looked at the hell their life had become in the blink of an eye. Little bushy haired brunettes. They held each other and sobbed. They couldn't be more than five and six years old.

"Aye Polliver." I called to get his attention. He looked up, upset at me for interrupting him from his entertainment.

"You gonna make those little girls watch that shit?" I asked, appalled.

He shrugged and went back to his fun.

_Lazy fuck._

I turned to the girls and smiled as gently as I could and walked toward the bed slowly. "Hey. Look at me. Not over there."

I must have scared them. The six(I think) year old ran at me with a knife, crying. I kicked her in the chest and sent her back onto the bed. The knife fell at my feet. I picked it up before she recovered from getting the wind knocked out of her and stabbed her in the chest, directly in the heart. Warm blood soaked my hands for the third time today.

Her little sister sat catatonic and silent as I approached.

_She shouldn't live with ghosts like this haunting her for the rest of her life._

She didn't move as I slid the knife across her throat.

The sick wheezing gurgling sounds she made as she died, eyes wide open brought a strange feeling to my chest.

It was similar to the feeling out ice water pouring through your veins. That look in her eyes as she realized it was all over for her and her family.

_The Boogy-man is real._

Pure fucking ecstasy.

666 666 666

I was a lot more chatty the next day as we approached the Keep. Despite my exhaustion from not sleeping the night before.

I had found some blue-green molded bread and wine in the farm-house last night. After heating the wine to a boil and cooling it, dawn was upon me. I had washed my hand and wrapped a sterilized rag around it. I had rubbed penicillin into the wound. Hopefully, it will heal alright.

"So, Polliver." He glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you do most of the time? You don't seem the type of man to work a farm and raise spawn on your off days." I inquired.

"I don't get no days off." he snorted. "Mostly, I guard Ser Gregor and collect taxes."

"Thats it?" I asked

_Sounds boring._

Polliver looked back over at me and grinned, showing off how bad his dentist was. "Most of the guarding is on the road. Ser Gregor is the greatest knight in the seven realms. We travel nearly everywhere for his tourneys. We collect taxes at the far borders of the Westerlands on the way back most of the time."

"Come tax season he puts us all to work. He has to collect on the River Road from Lannisport to Crakehall." He glanced over at me and grinned again.

_Smiley mother fucker._

"That sounds really boring." I replied.

He gave a strange cough and bit his fist in what I think was an attempt to stifle laughter.

_Why is that mother fucker laughing at me?_


	4. Chapter 4

Clegane's Boot collided with my chest like a freight train. Thick steel breast-plate and boiled leather coupled with the padding take the edge off the blow. Enough of the edge to keep him from crushing my ribcage.

I had already breathed out. I learned that trick in the first week. 'Hurts less if he doesn't knock the wind out of you too.' Taking a blow from the giant and not hitting the ground and staying there from the pain though, was straight fucking grit.

Back on my feet a few seconds later. Not fast enough. His sword was coming at me as soon as i was on my feet. The sword in my hand tilted just enough, by learned instinct, to deflect some of the force from the blow. Just enough was deflected not to send me back on my ass.

"Faster, boy." The brute grunted before his boot sent me back into the dirt.

_They say true hell is watching the ones you love in pain. Pain without end._

Every day is a struggle to survive. To show weakness is to die.

Every day a fight to the death.

_What is hell if you only love yourself?_

Outlaws to hunt.

_You realize pain itself is an illusion._

Bandits to fight.

_A chemical reaction to alert your brain to injury._

Villages to burn.

_The illusion is a learning experience._

Gregor does them all. Where Gregor goes, I go.

Bring me this. Burn that. Hold my sword while I pull my pants down. Wipe the blood off my armor. Hold her head down. Torture him. Kill her, shes' too old.

_Hell is my life._

The strong target the weak.

If you see five hundred pounds of steel and flesh, do you charge it or the child next to it?

They come at me first, over and over again.

To kill me...

I refuse to die here and every time!

Death isn't real.

Nothing is real.

_Only the illusion of hell that is my life._

Faster, I rose. Still he sent me to taste the dirt. Over and over again. I rise faster and faster every time.

I don't feel human anymore.

I forgot what it feels like.

I am a monster made flesh.

A demon, manifest.

Humans feel pain.

Monsters don't.

666 666 666

"You are too fucking stupid to do your job." I told Tickler. "Can't you tell hes' fucking lying to get you to stop?" I continued over the squealing knight's clamor. I had finally spoken up during the middle of one of his sessions. I usually held the comments back until we were out of the torture e's hearing. i couldn't hold back anymore as my temper blew.

I love humiliating and embarrassing the repetitive sadist. For a Westrosi torture expert, he was above average. He got answers from around eighty percent of the people he tortured before they expired. Unfortunately for him, they usually lied to get the pain to stop and died soon after. He did ask good questions once they started talking though.

_That is not satisfactory._

The skinny old torture expert turned around and glared. "You think you know so much you little shit, why don't you do it then?" He wheezed. Hot oil still dripped down and sizzled on the screaming knight's testes.

"Because it's your fucking job!" I yelled back. "Why the Mountain pays you good gold to fuck up time and again isn't my fucking problem. When you fuck up my job though, it becomes my fucking problem." I shouted in the idiot's face.

I hate the incompetent asshole more than you can imagine. During tax season, lots of greedy nobles like to hide what they owe and think they are being clever. I had too many assholes in my section claiming to have 'lost the gold to bandits' or 'never mined that much gold'. One or two can be over looked with the dozens I have to deal with this year. When a full six villages claim it though, It's time to bring in the expert.

Unfortunately, the expert is a fucking imbecile.

I have been assigned the south quarter of the River Road to collect on. I was one of the 'captains' of the Mountain's men. He got to go around having fun during tax season and the 'captains' have to do the detailed clean-up grunt-work after the Mountain's men did their thing.

As I was the only one who could read of Ser Gregor's captains and his squire on top of it, I got the most detailed grunt work. Writing down what comes out of the mouths of the 'traitors' and passing it on via raven to the Mountain and his men in the field(or keep them to myself). The longer I was here listening to this shit, the longer I was kept out of the best time of the year. Over a dozen knights and minor nobles were in Cleganes dungeon. Over the last three days, he had only broken one.

Every one of the prisoners had too much valuable information to be killed so easily. It was taking far too long.

Raiding got me gold. Gold I could use to get the fuck out of Tywin's lands. If I steal enough gold, I could buy a ship. I needed a many times the gold I have to buy a ship though. A cheap ship could cost ten thousand dragons on the low end of the price range. A cheap ship also runs the risk of sinking in the middle of the narrow sea.

_Don't forget pirates._

Two, almost three years as the Mountain's squire had taught me plenty of lessons.

Get the gold up front. If she bites. knock her teeth out in front of the other women. Get the gold upfront. Don't sleep near anyone you killed the family of the day before. Get the gold upfront. Blood dries an ugly brown on expensive red silk and doesn't wash out.

Lots of good things to fill in the gaps in the lacking education I had received in my past life.

"Thats it, I've had it with you, you little bastard! The Mountain can find a new tickler. I quit!." He shouted back in my face in his scratchy voice. He had finally lost his temper.

He overturned the pot of hot oil onto the now shrieking knight's lap. Burns like that are fatal. All the information he knew is gone. He will be delirious from the pain and die soon from the agony and shock.

The prisoner's looked on from the cages across the dungeon with glee. Their tormentor was leaving. Never to return.

The landed knight had owed five thousand dragons he had hidden somewhere.

_Lost forever._

The tickler turned back around and started to walk toward the dungeon's exit.

"Hey asshole." my voice made him pause and look back over his shoulder.

A branding rod whacked into his chin with a wet popping sound. He collapsed to the floor unconscious with a broken jaw.

The prisoners behind me started to laugh and cheer. I looked over at them with a smile. They looked back with hopeful expressions. "Please boy, free me. I'll make you a knight. Give you a high born wife. Anything you want." One cajoled brazenly.

Only idiots trust liars. Everyone lies.

I will enjoy crushing that hope out of each and every one of them.

_Hope is a lie._

The smile was maintained as I walked over to the wall and removed the rope and a pulley from the tool rack. A cat's paw cuff knot restrained the hands of the tickler. I hooked the pulley to it's spot and looped the rope through. The cuff tie was one that would slowly cinch tighter and cut off circulation to a limb under force. It's a favorite of Japanese police as the harder you struggle, the more the cuff tightens.

If you want the person to be able to use a limb after you undo the cuff never ever suspend someone from such a knot.

I pulled on the rope and raised the Tickler up in to the air. I cinched the end of the rope secure on his ankles to intensify the weight of his body.

Next week is my twelfth name day.

I had forgotten it the last two years. Swinging a sword in a life or death fight does that to you.

_Time for a birthday present to myself._

I dumped a bucket of water on the naked man's head to wake him up. He had come to while I was cutting his clothes off with a knife and started wriggling too early. I had pinched down on his carotid artery until his eyes rolled back and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

He immediately started shrieking through his busted jaw. Squirming caused him more pain he quickly realized and stopped jerking around. I waited a few minutes for the screeches to turn into groans of agony before I started the process.

I was standing behind him and facing the audience of hope filled prisoners, out of the old man's view. The brazier that had been used to heat out, now had a thin blade sitting in it, heating up. I held another thin bladed knife and and a small cutting of hollow reed straw.

"I want you all to realize and recognize here and now that I am not this old man." I addressed my silent audience. The tickler jerked in surprise at my voice behind him and began shrieking anew.

"Uck coo." He cursed, trying to kick at me from behind.

"I want you all to watch this closely." I continued, ignoring the imbecile. Walking around to the front of the naked man, I gazed into his eyes. Pain and anger glared back. I couldn't see any fear in his eyes.

_That is not satisfactory._

I put the reed in my mouth to free up a hand. I held on to the ticklers throat with one hand and dug my thumb and forefingers onto the sides of his trachea to hold it steady. He stilled as any motion, choked off his breath.

I brought the knife up under his Adam's apple and pressed the small blade about a half inch deep. I quickly removed the knife and inserted the reed before the tickler realized what was happening. I could feel the hot stinking breath escape from the new breathing hole.

He had a look of fear in his eyes now as wheezing panicked and shallow breaths came from somewhere they shouldn't.

_Success._

Now, he really wriggled and gave hoarse, wheezing shrieks through the reed straw as I put on a leather glove and moved over to the brazier. He continued jerking so much as I came near that one of his shoulders dislocated with a wet pop. Fear-piss soaked my boots.

I grabbed his junk with one and and brought the glowing knife slowly through his sizzling flesh. His eyes rolled back again. I used the opportunity to insert his flesh into his mouth and tied a rag under his chin to the top of his head to hold his mouth shut.

The sounds of puking and sobs echoed from the cells.

I put the slop bucket from a cell under him. It was full of foul smelling stuff. I reached up to the non-dislocated shoulder and pulled downwards. His body tilted in the air as the pulley raised his feet and lowered his head. I punched his shoulder and it dislocated too with another pop. He regained consciousness as his head lowered down into the bucket. Fast wheezing gasps came from the tube as the tickler felt piss and shit creep up his nose and into his mouth.

His shuddering body jerked behind me as I smiled at the prisoners.

_So much valuable information._

"Who wants to tell me about gold?"


	5. Chapter 5

"The boy is too young, he will be killed." The old man behind the registration podium frowned worriedly as he gestured to me.

Ser Gregor and I looked at one another and then back to the old men.

I began to laugh as the mountain leaned over the podium. The white haired knight paled as the mountain growled. "Are you questioning me?"

"No, I will register him now. About the entry fee..." The elderly knight was interrupted as a fat purse of gold dropped onto the podium with a clang. "A hundred dragons." Ser Gregor grunted and began to walk over to the elaborate jousting registration table.

He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder. "Half, boy."

I nodded affirmative.

Four years had passed since I woke as Tyrek Lannister. I had grown from the skinny boy I used to be into the size of an average Westrosi man. At a little more than five and a half feet, I was growing steadily every year. Carrying Ser Gregor's spare sword across my back in battle and eventually, wielding it, had strengthened my body.

Forged in blood and sweat, I was as fast as anyone could be.

I had bought a new set of armor for the upcoming tournament. It was in honor of the stupid prince's 'second and tenth' name day. I was a little less than two years older than the spoiled little bastard.

Ser Gregor was going to crush the competition in the joust as he always did. The reward was fifty thousand gold dragons. You had to be a knight to fight in the joust. I on the other hand, was going to fight in the melee.

The melee is open to anyone who can pay the very pricey entry fee. Only nobles or knights could really afford it though. The prize is ten thousand gold dragons. A huge amount of money. Half went to Ser Gregor if I won, for allowing me to compete. I had fought with him for years now.

A new set of armor was made for the tourney. The old one was too tight. Misfitted armor can kill you as easy as a knife to the throat. Dull black painted full plate armor with boiled leather and underneath. My breastplate was was in the Greek style of chiseled abdominal and chest muscles. My helmet's faceplate was a likeness to my face. Cost me eighty dragons and took months to complete.

I wore a red cloak over my shoulders. The Lannister's lion sigil stitched across it. Knee high black dyed and polished leather boots with a steel cover on the top to merge uniform with my segmented plate leg armor.

My sword was long and thick. A little thicker than the average sword with a notch running down the middle. It had a five foot blade and a foot long handle. It weighed a little more than twenty pounds and was named Dragon Slayer in honor of my past life's favorite anime and manga. Compared to my childhood size and my father's sword, it was the same. I continued to get lager swords as I grew taller. I was used to the balance of a large weapon.

It was what my muscle memory was trained to fight with.

Words had carried to me from a raven of Ashemark, a year ago, informing me of Darla's death. She had died the same as my 'father', plague.

Tuely, I had not visited Casterly Rock since I left. A days ride, I had visited nearby Lannisport fairly often. I stayed there with his other men when he was in audience with the asshole, Tywin. I had not seen a Lannister of Casterly Rock since I left it. Killed and seen quite a few of the other types of Lannisters though.

Lannets, Lennys, Lannisters of Lannisport, Lannys, ect.

Never was I summoned by Tywin. Maybe he had expected me to send him ravens telling him how horrible Clegane's Keep was and come crawling back or come to him begging for coin like the rest of his family. Tywin had decided to send me to the Clegane Knight as a squire, I believe, to kill me. He and my 'father' had hated each-other I had been told. Maybe he wanted my to come begging to go squire elsewhere and have me owe him a debt for the deed.

Begging just wasn't in me anymore. I hadn't known I had the option as a Great House Noble to go begging my uncle to save me. If I had the memories from the first nine years of comfortable life with Darla, I may have known I could do so. Tywin was King in the West lands in all but name.

After Ser Gregor registered, we went to one of Baelish's Inns to rest from the trip and have a little fun.

Tomorrow, I would fight for something precious.

Freedom from Ser Gregor and Tywin Lannister.

666 666 666

"Tyrek Lannister" the Herald announced my name as I gazed over to the Royal box. I waved my arm to Identify myself. The Herald was announcing the names of everyone competing in the Grand Melee.

The white cloaked knight, Jamie Lannister stood behind the Queen and glanced over to my armored form. He looked like an older version of me.I turned my view from him to my competition. Most were in boiled leather or chain-mail or half-plate. Out of sixty nine men competing, only twenty or so wore expensive full plate armor. I recognized most of my rivals from other tournys in such places like the Reach and Vale.

I wasn't the shortest man in this tourney, but I was the youngest. I had sunk most of the gold I(not counting my many stashes) had betting on myself. The odds were against me 20 to 1. If I won, twenty thousand gold dragons was mine. Twenty five after the prize and Gregor got his cut. Enough to live anywhere in the world, barring Quarth. Twenty thousand gold was nothing in Quarth.

Winning, means proving my skill of arms before the King himself. If you are not a knight, and win a melee, you were usually knighted on the spot. Even if I wasn't knighted, twenty thousand gold coins was enough to tell Clegane I quit. Doing so would piss Tywin off good and proper of course. Maybe enough to cast me out of House Lannister. I don't need a protector like Clegane or Tywin anymore.

After today, I will take no orders from anyone again.

The contestants all lined up and bowed to the King. We moved to line the edges of the arena. Once I reached my assigned place, I threw off my cloak and drew my sword. It drew little attention. The bronze armor of the venerable Yohn Royce drew much more attention than the black armored 'shrimp' with a long sword. I saw Thoros of Myr's sword light on fire.

Need to figure out how he does that.

_How he brings the dead to life too..._

I saw Ser Gregor and the rest of the men we often traveled with in the crowd.

I had bought a bought a clay jar of 'The Wine Of Courage' from the alchemist guild this morning for a few silvers. I had run out of it a few weeks previous. It would deaden all pain. If there were rules against cheating with drug use, I had never heard of them. Broken bones and exhaustion would not faze me under the influence of the potion.

If I win, I am free.

The men in this tournament would have to kill me to put me down.

Either way, I am free of Gregor and Tywin.

"Begin" Bellowed the drunk fatass.

I turned to the light leather armored man on my right and took his head off on my first swing. Battle cries sounded and the crowd cheered loudly.

My sword finished it's rotation from the beheading swing. I brought it around to blindly thrust directly behind me at the opponent that was on my left at the start of the fight. I felt the abnormally long sword pierce through chain-mail and bite deep into the back-stabber's guts. "Yield." He shrieked as the sword withdrew, along with some intestine and liver. He dropped to the ground as I moved on to the next man.

Under my helmet was a smile. I lived for this feeling. Unlike most of my opponents, I fought to kill. Left and right, I swung and slaughtered. Speed and reach were my strengths. As long as I moved the sword fast enough, I didn't have to use too much strength. The momentum and velocity of the long slab of steel did the work for me.

The crowd howled as a high over-headed swing crushed the skull of a man in full plate. The sword got lodged in the bone and nearly jerked out of my blood soaked hands. I kicked his helmet hard enough to dislodge dragonslayer and turn to meet the charge of two men who thought ganging up together on my would be easier.

They lost their heads in the same swing. My reach and ferocity was too much for them. The crowd screamed louder than ever. I could hear The king shouting the loudest of all.

After what felt like seconds only three men stood standing in the blood soaked arena. Thoros of Myr, Yohn Royce and I.

We circled each-other for what seemed like and eternity. I charged Thoros first. His flaming sword met my over-head swing with a clang. I ducked under a high stab at my neck and kicked out into Thoros's ankle. It broke with a snap. "Yield." he shouted as I turned to face the charging Royce.

We traded a few blows before his sword struck my left arm. I felt my shoulder dislocate. I felt no pain and continued, slower than before.

Win or die.

_It is always win or die._

He slowed from exhaustion. My shoulder popped back in painlessly. He is an old man, I remembered. I left and opening in my center. He thrust at my chest. I ducked and thrust dragonslayer upwards. It took him through the throat. I was soaked head to toe in blood.

_Freedom!_

The crowd cheered.

I walked to the royal box. I removed my helmet, and bowed.

Robert looked at me with an incensed expression. "That was my friend, Kingslayer." He took a big swig of wine. "Take your fucking gold and get the fuck out of here before I kill you." He continued. "I shouldn't have spared you that day you killed the mad king. Should have gutted you then and my friend would still be alive." He continued to rant at and get louder to me as I stood there stone faced and half listened. I was thinking of what to do with the gold first.

Jamie, who had been smiling behind the Queen, had lost his smile when the King started speaking. He had gotten steadily redder and angrier as the King continued to rant. He walked down the steps from the royal box and moved to stand beside me. He in his gold plated armor and white cloak, next to my blood and viscera coated armor stood side by side.

The King slowly trailed off as he too in the difference in hight and facial expression between the Kinlayer and I.

The Queen looked like a fat kid in a candy store as she watched the Royal lardass go through every shade of red possible before storming off.

I was thinking of all the girls I could buy with that much gold.

"Come, cousin." The Queen beckoned me to follow to the Red Keep. Incestuous as she was, her beauty put Jessica Alba to shame.

So I did what any almost fourteen year old would do.

Followed the swaying hips in front of me.


	6. Chapter 6

"You have grown since I last saw you, Tyrek." The Queen smiled at me as we walked to her golden litter. The littlest Prince and Princess were not present at the melee. Too young to see the 'accidental' deaths that regularly happened. Last I saw, Joffrey was still watching the injured and dead men get carried of the blood soaked tourney arena with a big grin.

_I wonder when that was? I'd remember an ass that fine._

"I want you to come to the Red Keep and be my guest. Take a bath as soon as you get there." She continued with a laugh as she stepped up into the servant-lifted carriage.

I nodded with a small smirk. "Yes, Your Grace."

_I'm going to wear that bitch like a condom..._

She gave another smile and a wave of her hands at her servants as she closed the curtains. A column of red armoured guards followed her litter to the Red Keep.

Ser Jamie slapped my back. "Good show, cousin." He laughed in good humour. "I think a knighting is in order for you." He continued as I watched a few gold

cloaks loaded my gold on a cart. Baelish the gambler paid quick. He made far more money than I did today.

"Thank you." I nodded back.

"So what are you going to do with your winnings?" He enquired.

_Build an army and drown the world in blood._

"Invest it of course." I answered. The gold cloaks were almost done.

"Invest in what though?" He prodded again.

"People." I answered, stoically.

A servant brought me my red silk cloak and I tossed it into the cart over the chest of gold.

"You know slavery is illegal?" He enquired in a lower tone.

I had to laugh. "Life makes slaves of us all."

The Kinlayer shook his head, exasperated, and mounted his horse.

"That was a wonderful fight, cousin. I will kill even more men in my first tournament of course." Came the voice of the Prince behind me.

I turned around and bowed at the neck. "I'm glad it was entertaining your majesty, Happy name-day to you." The prince was mounted, as was the dog behind him. They were followed by more gold cloaks.

"Your majesty? I like the sound of that though I've never heard it before. Ride with me." He looked over his shoulder.

"Get him a horse, Hound." Was the order given to Sandor. He moved moved his own horse of to the other side of the street and pushed a silk robed merchant off his horse without warning. The man was leaving the tourney along with other minor nobility. His pretty robes were caked in shit and mud as he lay on the ground moaning in pain.

I burst into laughter, along with the prince. I mounted the horse after the smirking hound handed the reins down to me.

_I see why Joffrey likes the hound._

"You fight very well." The prince continued as we rode though the capital city. "Messily though." He gestured to my gore plastered self.

"Thank you for the compliment, Your Majesty." I saw his face brighten as I used the unfamiliar honorific once more.

I leaned a little closer as if I was telling him a secret. "I must say though, that there is nothing I enjoy better than making a mess out of weaklings." I spoke lowly as if conveying a great secret. It created an illusion of intimacy that is important for manipulation.

This was an opportunity I was not going to pass up. First impressions are important, much more so with royalty. I would probably not get the chance to speak to the prince alone again. He was always surrounded by worshippers.

The prince's face took on a shifty look as he too leaned toward me and whispered. "Me too."

"Too bad I'm the Mountain's squire, we could have a lot of fun." I said with a sad look on my face. "After the joust tomorrow, I will have to go back to the Westerlands and chase down brigands again." I finished with a sigh. I glanced back over at Joffrey who wore an expression of constipation, as he rubbed his both brain cells together.

We rode in silence a little longer. I spoke up again. "I am usually the interrogation specialist so my duties are pretty vital over in the Westerlands. Otherwise, bandits would run rampant."

The prince looked at me with confusion. "Interrogation specialist?" he asked.

"A fancy way of saying torture expert." I answered.

"Really? At your age?" He asked, curious.

"Torture isn't about age. It's an art form. Looking in a weakling traitors eyes as you cause them so much pain that they want to die. Making them beg you to kill them and denying them release even then." I nodded sagely. "Its the best thing in the world." I finished.

"It does sound exciting." He said, constipated look once more on his face. Both his brain cells were heating up from the friction and strain.

"Maybe when I come back in a few years when you are King, I can show your own experts a thing or two, Your Majesty." I said with cheer.

_He couldn't see the game that was right in front of his face._

His face slowly took on a smile as an idea, not his own, took root and grew in his puny little mind. "Maybe you don't have to go." He blurted suddenly.

I gave him a look of confusion. "I don't understand, Your Majesty."

"Well, I'm the prince. As prince I can take sworn swords like my Hound." He gestured at Clegane's smirking form. Clegane winked at me out of Joffrey's view.

_He knew._

"What does that have to do with me leaving, Your Majesty? I don't understand." I continued to stroke his ego.

"You could be my sworn sword of course." He said with a look as if Christmas, had come early.

I gave him my best shocked looked. "What a wonderful idea." I said with a grin to match his.

My grin was for a completely different reason.

_I'm so going to fuck your mom._


	7. Chapter 7

I've played with dozens of different Cerseis before. Women like Cersei. Powerful women that have to be in control of everything in their life. So much power, that they must dominate the world around them to avoid being hurt, by loss of control. In the bedroom though... Dominance must be forceful with a feeling of sheltering protection for her psyche's type.

By play, I speak in the BDSM sense. A 'play', is the term for a session of sadomasochistic power exchange and mind-subversion of the funnest sort.

Thats what play is to me anyway. It is what you make it. Just one of the many general terms used by kinky people to hold a conversation without confusing each-other.

In the BDSM 'scene' in my former life, I had played for years. Not just with women like Cersei, but hundreds of other people too.

Some people spend their spare cash on electronics and video games. I on the other hand... Hundreds of feet of two dollar per foot hand-twisted hemp rope. Floggers. Dragon-tails. Snake whips. Chains. Finger talons. Gags. Padded cuffs. Knifes. Cat-o-nines. Leashes. Costumes of all kinds... The list is never ending.

Many people fake dominance as a facade to hide their true selves. Selves that they sometimes never knew existed. The ones that do know on the other hand... Lets just say I've had my share of fun.

_Sex needs skill. _

Fire-play and Needle-play need far more skill than sex.

I started lighting the designs I drew on people's skin aflame, safely, at the age of eighteen. I started using needles as anchors to tie corsets of people's skin at the same age. Cutting, Cell-popping, Varied role-playing skills, etc.

I learned from very experienced masters in their arts. I remember it all. How to straddle the thin line between pleasure and pain. How to make one extreme feel like another. Playing the human body like a harp.

_To put it lightly, Cersei really has no idea who the fuck she is dealing with. _

666 666 666

After a bath, I was led to a guest's chamber. It was all antique wood furnishings and four post bed. Red trim on the elaborately carved walls and red curtains to draw my balcony/window shut. It even had it's own privy closet.

I left the curtains open to let in the cool nights ocean's breeze. I still had a problem with the scent that reeked from the humans of this world. A fine red vintage set on the smooth and polished table. A bowl of fruit next to it. A few chairs set around the table.

Definitely a room for an aristocrat. My cleaned armor lay on the floor near my bed. My saddle-bags and sword with it.

I opened the saddle-bags and started my nightly precess. Powdered limestone and salt were rubbed on my teeth. A sip of fortified wine was swished trough my mouth and spit over the side of the balcony. Fine silk thread flossed my teeth. More powdered limestone mixed with rosemary oil slapped under my arms.

I removed a needle and a glowing green crystal vial of liquid. 'Blood Of The Dragon'. Used by Ser Gregor in his youth, now in mine. He had taken too much, I think, and was left with the side effect of harsh migraines. I limited my daily usage to half of what he took at my age and size.

With it, you will continue to grow larger and stronger. When you stop taking it, you will cease to grow. If you piss off the Alchemist's Guild, they will switch it out for wildfire without informing you.

I filled the needle half way and corked the vial. I set the needle's tip in my mouthwash, as I rubbed some on my thigh. I stuck the needle deep into my thigh and pushed the stopper down. The wine of courage dulled the fire spreading from my leg to my entire body. It ended after a few minutes.

I opened the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and ran my hands through the gold. The clinking sound and luster of the glimmering metal gave me a thrill you can't believe. Power in solid form. Leverage over the less powerful.

_So many Ideas... _

I started to but my armor back on.

Sleeping was difficult without it and a helmet on. It, like the bar over the door are faulty security. Better than nothing though. Everyone has something to make them feel safer, in a wild and random world.

A knock on the door. I hadn't but the bar on. Only my steel boots and legs were plated. I drew my sword from it's sheath.

_It could be Thieves. It could be Baelish, or worse._

I stood behind the door, sword raised. "Come in."

The door opened and light footsteps entered. I watched through the door's jam.

_Ah... The Queen, alone. _

Dragonslayer lowered, silently. I slammed the door shut with a loud *BANG* as soon as she passed the closing door's arc. She startled with a shriek and whirled around with a frightened look.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, Your Grace." I lied with an apologetic expression. "I don't know my own strength sometimes and shut the door too hard." I continued, lying.

The fight or flight instinct's release of hormones had already occurred. I used any advantage to destabilize my opponents in preparation of spars. Mental or physical.

I could see her pulse speed up as her carotid artery visibly throbbed on her neck. Her natural fear gave way to her learned behavior of manipulation. She put on a smile and visibly relaxed. The chemicals were still there, biding time.

"No harm done, Tyrek. I came to talk and see how you were settling in. I heard from Joffrey that you were going to swear your sword to him. I must, as a mother, ask some questions." She said in her melodic and deceptively benevolent voice.

"Then speaking to a mother, please, have a seat." I took advantage of her open statement by pulling out a chair in front of the table. The chair faced the balcony and the view of the night's stars. I pushed the chair in as she sat.

_Step one. Establish trust._

I moved over to another chair and moved it to her left. My chair, faced her. Her chair, faced the table. Subtle and unnoticeable physiological cues subconsciously enter the mind.

You are the center of my attention. You are wanted here. You are safe here.

All of these I must convey before I may begin seduction, and subversion thereafter.

Her heart still raced from the shock of the door slamming. The hormones secondary effects should kick in momentarily.

"As family, I will do everything in my power to protect my cousin and see him to a long and successful reign as King." I said while looking into her eyes.

_Step two. Establish intimacy._

I brazenly took her hand and held it gently in my own scarred palm. My thumb rubbed softly between her thumb and forefinger, without her notice. Very important to increase the Oxytocin release.

I was fairly certain, the scare would make her overlook the unspoken taboo of touching royalty.

"He is lucky to have a mother as caring as you to look out for his interests." I continued

_Step three. Flattery._

" My own gave me away to the Mountain when I was a child without a care and died years later without ever speaking to me again." I spoke in a lower and quieter pitch, leaning closer. She responded positively to the increased intimacy and leaned in herself. Pheromones work wonders.

_Step four. Cast attention on one's self without bragging._

Her chest blushed red as the chemicals did their work. I leaned in even closer and spoke in a low tone. "I wish I had someone like you, back then."

_Step five. Increase intimacy._

Her body temperature rose. Eyes dilated.

_Strike at the moment of greatest weakness!_

I leaned closer and brought my lips to hers. Her head tilted as my hand cupped the back of her neck. Her tongue prodded my lips. My free arm slid her chair closer and rested on the small of her back.

Author's Note.

For the record. Tyrek in his first second in this world before stubbing his toe is authentic me. My actions depend on my situation, brain chemistry, and many other factors. Four years with the Mountain however changes anyone into someone else. I find writing and reading a shifting character's morals more fun than a 'monotone moral' one.

Also,

I'm not good at writing lemons, its too fucking boring to me.

I can explain the seduction process, though. That is always very fun.


	8. Chapter 8

_The Queen is a bi-polar bitch. _

But , she was also tight, multi-orgasmic, and, has never tried holding her breath before orgasm.

Right as I felt her back start to arch, I covered her mouth and nose with one hand, while thrusting harder. She thrashed under me and tried to call out for help through her mouth. I watched her panicked eyes with a smile.

She tried to pry my hands off for the face for the first ten seconds before the tingling feeling spreading out from her stomach, intensified.

Her prying stopped as she lost control of her body. I counted out thirty seconds as I held my own breath and felt my own dick expand as it exploded inside of royalty.

After her eyes rolled up into her skull at the count of twenty-eight, I released my grip on her nose. Her mouth was making a high pitched wailing as her whole body started to constrict.

Her shaking legs moved her ankles off my shoulders to around my back. Her arms wrapped around me tightly as I leaned over her, still hard. I started thrusting again into her spasming body.

_Erotic Asphyxiation. Powerful stuff._

An hour later our panting bodies lay side by side. I onto turned my side to face her. I felt the bed making small shakes as she continued to tremor in aftershocks of her last big O.

"Again, next week?" I inquired.

"Now." was the shaky reply.

I was still in my early teens... No problem!

_Insatiable bitch! _

666 666 666

Cersei told Joffrey that I was too high ranked a noble to become his sworn shield. He threw a fit of epic proportions I had heard. I was sad to miss it, but, I had to sit vigil in the Sept of the Red Keep. Ser Jamie had done the knighting ceremony this morning. I had gotten what I wanted.

I have to sit all day and night, in this silly seven sided room and pretend to pray to these stupid made up idols.

Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Crone, Maiden, and, Stranger.

_So fucking boring._

I used the opportunity to plan out the possible futures ahead of me. I racked my mind to remember everything I remembered from the books of G.R.R.M. Some things about the plot I have forgotten. Specific battles and such were mostly forgotten. I remember the plot though.

Zombie army that can only be killed by fire, within the next four years, at the most. I'm not really sure what year Jon Arryn gets poisoned by his wife to set shit off, but, I think it will be within the next two or so, based on Joffrey's age.

A lot of war and people dying.

Dragons.

More war.

All of it is bad news. I really don't see any way sitting in this chapel for a knighting is going to change any on that. Especially one dedicated to false gods.

_False Gods..._

Religion in my old world was something I made fun off. I had the Idea that every black-hole was it's own new universe. Atheistic to the core.

_Look at those monkeys worshiping that lie on a stick... _

I hadn't even considered what magic I had seen here as proof of divinity. I considered it like I considered Harry Potter style magic. Say some words and *poof*.

I looked at the seven small states before me and pondered on what the magic would be like here.

Ex-Maester Qyburn makes a headless monster out of Clegane after his poisoning.

_Strange shit._

Warlocks of Quarth.

They could be in many places at once. They could either create vividly realistic complete sensory mimicking hallucinations, or warp time and space. Addicted to a drink called Shade of the Evening, that supposedly smelled horrid until you put it in your mouth. When in your mouth, it was said to taste like everything you have ever tasted and more.

Led by long dead wrinkly blue men... Defeated by a little girl and a newborn dragon.

_Straight up creepy mother fuckers._

The Assassins of the House of Black and White.

Can create illusions and are good with potions and poisons. A cult of bad-asses that make you go through a long and strange initiation, involving blindness.

_They worship the god of death, Chaos Marine Style... By Killing._

And the last one... The Red Priests.

They can raise the dead. Long dead and recent dead alike. Over and over. Weird shadow and fire magic. Give 'birth' to shadow assassins. They come from the Shadow Lands in far east Essos. The Shadow Lands were where Daenery's dragon eggs came from.

_Dragon eggs... _

I could use some dragon eggs.

666 666 666

I watched as my chest of gold was loaded onto the ship. I didn't own the ship. I had bought passage to Tyrosh for a few gold dragons from the captain. My sword and armor, as always, I wore. I sold my horse and Saddle. I had four years supply of Blood of the Dragon in another trunk, already loaded. I threw my Lannister cloak down at my.

All it ever gave me was fucking trouble.

Four thousand gold for the Blood of the Dragon. About all I had managed to stash from the last few tax seasons.

Cersei had almost begged me to stay when she heard I had booked passage. She offered me Hollys Stokeworth's hand in marriage to raise my rank to a Lord of the Crownlands. I told her yes a few hours ago and was rushing my way the fuck out of the city.

_Never tell that bitch no, to her face. It will always end badly._

I'm not marrying a girl with Down's Syndrome.

I had come to King's Landing a month ago and fucked the queen a half a hundred times since. She is a fine piece of ass, but, I am way younger and her cousin. No future there. Even if I was older and not her cousin... Women get old when its just sex.

Not one ounce of kinky rested within her. She won't even agree to role-play. All she wanted was boring vanilla sex. All the fucking time.

_Fuck that shit._

The ship soon left the city heading south, once out of Black-water Bay.

I felt relieved to be off the continent of Westeros. Truly, this last month was the longest I had ever been in this world, without killing anyone. It felt good to not have to fight or kill almost every day.

All the sex and relaxation made me feel almost like a new man. I had no one I considered family. No attachments to anyone. I can go as far as my money and Dragonslayer will take me. I can be anything I want to be. Do, anything I want to do. Go, anywhere I feel like, whenever I feel like.

Freedom! True freedom.

666 666 666

I woke in my cabin on the ship, a fortnight into the voyage. A scream on deck.

"Pirates!" I jumped with a start. Adrenaline started it's thing.

Dragonslayer and I ran to the cabin door and up the large trade cog's stairs. I was expecting a fight on deck and instead saw a little speck in the distance. The crew were working like normal. The captain was at the raised platform on the back of the ship with a Myrish eye pointed at the 'Pirate' ship a long way away.

_I guess it is pretty difficult to get surprised on the ocean. _

"Whats with the pirate yell if they are way the fuck out there, Varo?" I called up to the blue haired Tyroshi captain.

"They have been getting closer for an hour." He called back down without looking away.

I liked the guy. We had chatted many times over the past couple of weeks. He told me about life as a sailor.(very unpleasant) I told him about the Wights and White-walkers of the north that would be walking across the bottom of the ocean in a few years.(Skagos for example)

He didn't believe me, but then again, who the hell would? He thought I was a crazy paranoid rich noble, with a good imagination.

I thought he was a sad, pathetic dreamer with a lust for adventure. He had two families. One in wife and two sons in Tyrosh. Another wife in King's Landing, with one son and two daughters.

Neither knew about the other.

Which is why I liked the guy. Anyone with balls like that has my vote! Imagine what one would do to him is she found out. Especially the Tyroshi one...

"How do you know its a pirate?" I called up again as I stared to make my way up the stairs to the command deck of the ship.

What made him so sure of pirates?

"Kraken on black sails. A Greyjoy is captain on that ship. Its gaining on us." He yelled an answer, still looking through the long brass monocular.

What?

"Can I see?" I asked behind him. He handed it over to me.

I looked through the eye.

It looked like a long-ship of the viking age. Long, low to the water. Two masts with two large black sails. I could make out a white Kraken on both of the black sails.

I handed the eyeglass back numbly.

Only five adult Greyjoys live.

Balon, who stays in Pyke.

Aeron, the high priest of the Iron-born religion.

Victarion, Commander of the Iron fleet and would never have just one ship.

Asha, daughter of Balon, raids fishing villages.

The last one was banished... earlier this year.

'Anyone but that blue lipped fuck'

I looked at the ship I was on and the crew on it. Not one man in plate armor. Only a few had boiled leather, like the captain. Only three had swords. A dozen bows. Every man of the two dozen or so on board at least had knifes. A couple whaling spears.

This is a merchant ship going through generally safe waters. Pirates stay around the step-stones to avoid Stannis' powerful fleet.

Being a man from the west coast, I had seen many a ironborn ship. That one was one of the largest.

The average longship holds around a hundred men.

This one though...

I looked over at the sweating Varo.

"We're Fucked."


	9. Chapter 9

(AN. For those that have not read the books, you need a little more info to understand. Euron 'Crow's Eye' Greyjoy is The single most dangerous character in the entire series. Iron King, King of the Isles and The North, King of Salt and Rock, Son of the Sea Wind, Lord Reaper of Pyke, and, Captain of the Silence. He is a Greyjoy, who has the black magic powers of a Warlock. He is Cunning, Evil, Greedy, Well learned(for them), and, Utterly Ruthless. He is brother to Balon, and exiled from the Iron Ilse for raping his brother's wife. He can curb-stomp the Mountain.)

"Did you see the red color of the deck on that ship?" Varo asked. I looked at him, and nodded.

"That ship is famous. Black sails, red deck. Thats the Silence. No one has ever outrun or fought off that ship." He continued with a sad expression.

I already knew that.

"The Crow's Eye is known to enslave crews that surrender. If you fight, you might die quickly. His ship is crewed by mutes. They say he ripped all their tongues out himself. Thats a fate far worse than death." I replied and stared at the captain, as I tried to remember what else I could of Euron from the books.

I remember that he captured some warlocks and tortured them into teaching him the secrets to their magic. I remember that he raided the Reach, successfully. Last I remember, he possessed the Dragon-Horn.

The horn was used to control dragons.

Euron could be in many places at once. He could move instantaneously from one place to another. There is no fighting and winning against that kind of power.

"Better to die fighting than live as a tongueless slave to a madman." I said, resolute. I expected Varo to agree. Instead, he looked at me as if I was a three year old.

"Better to be alive then dead." He said.

I scoffed at him, and walked back down to my cabin in silence.

I pulled the jar of the wine of courage out. I looked at it for a moment, thinking, and began to drink. I drank until I couldn't feel anything. My vision, started to dim. I couldn't feel a thing. I then drank more. My hearing dulled and my taste of the foul liquid disappeared. I drank until the jar was empty.

"Raise sails. Drop anchor!" I heard the captain's orders on deck.

_I would have fought to the death beside them._

I tossed the empty jar over my shoulder into the cabin's door. It shattered with a crash. I looked at the small cask sitting atop my under-clothes. I uncorked it too and began to drink. I couldn't feel nausea, if I had any. This was actual preserved dragon's blood. It was highly poisonous ingested, and should quicken the end.

I unlaced my armor and lied on the bed for the first time without armor on.

_I wish I had thought of this before I drank all that wine of courage. Would have felt nice to relax one last time._

The glowing green fluid was drained from the cask in seconds. I had felt nothing, still. I relaxed back on the bed and wondered how long the will take to kill me.

A burning feeling started in my chest. I ignored it, and continued to stare at the ceiling.

It will all be over soon. This nightmare of years.

_Why had I not done this sooner?_

Crow's Eye somehow maintained the loyalty of his ship's tongueless crew. If my tongue was cut out, I would do my best to kill the fuck that did it. The fact that he was surrounded by them gave me the conclusion that they must be mind controlled some-how. I will not let that happen to me.

I don't want to face involuntary slavery of myself. Kill me, not cut out my tongue and mind control me.

The burning spread and intensified. I tried to ignore it and failed. I know the dose I had taken of the Wine of Courage was fatal. It was way beyond the allowed amount for even the highest tolerances to the potion.

I groaned as the pain became worse. It was too sharp to ignore. My entire body felt like it was submerged in a deep fryer. I had never felt like this before. My eyes rolled back into my head.

_Maybe drinking four years worth of blood of the dragon, was a bad idea._

The pain suddenly became too intense to breath. I felt the final moment last for eternity.

_Then darkness._

666 666 666

It was bright here. Shining with warm light originating from everywhere. Brighter than the sun, but, without the pain of brightness. The light radiated warm heat. It felt...

Comforting and safe.

My pain was gone. I felt my body more clearly than I had in years. I looked down and almost cried. I was wearing what I had been when I went to bed, four years ago.

Darth Vader boxer shorts and a white wife-beater shirt.

I felt tears begin to gather in the corners of my eyes as I saw my old body was once more inhabited by me. I reached out a shaking hand to caress the weapons tattooed across my chest. The five point star with a crown and an apple on one shoulder. The square and compasses with a dated banner tattooed on the other. My skin was once again a mocha color.

I couldn't feel any sadness as tears trickled down my cheeks. These were tears of happiness. I was home in the truest sense of the word. I looked in front of me and to the sides. As far as the eyes could see, there was nothing, but white.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind me.

I whirled around. Before me stood... Tyrek? I beheld a naked giant. At least eight feet of ripped muscle and unmarred skin. The face... So cold.

"Where am I?" I asked the larger version of the body I had grown used to.

No reply.

His leg blurred out. An atomic bomb went off between my legs.

His right hand grabbed my gasping throat and lifted me off the ground. I felt a rhino charge horn first into my chest. I felt my ribcage shatter like toothpicks.

The hand on my throat choked off my bloody gurgle of agony. A jab knocked my front teeth into my mouth. The white floor rose up to give me a big wet kiss.

"Don't do it again." I heard.

_Do what?_

A sledge-hammer shattered my legs.

A wrecking ball slammed into my spine.

The wet smacking sounds faded away.

I don't know if he kept hitting me.

I was gone.

Gone to that place where time and pain no longer exist.

_Oblivion._

666 666 666

The feeling of flying through the air.

The wet stinging of water up my nose.

A rocking sensation.

The feel of sand digging in between my ass cheeks..

My eyes jerked open, though I wished they hadn't. The bright sun painfully blinded me. I shut them back tightly, and groaned in pain. The entire front of my naked body was sun burned. My entire body felt painfully cramped. Every movement set off painful spasms.

_Heat stroke, dehydration._

I felt a wave of ocean water roll over me. It went over my face. I started coughing in salt water. As I lay, drowning in six inches of water, I wondered how I ended up here. An eternity later, I felt the water recede once more back into the ocean. I tried to sit up, but found myself too weak.

I rolled over onto my stomach, eyes still shut. As I felt another breaking wave lap my feet, I held my breath. I took advantage of the shallow water to painfully shimmy my body, higher up on the beach. As the water receded past my body once more, I gathered the strength to crawl.

I continued to use every ounce of my will-power to force myself forward, inch by agonizing inch. My hands encountered something slimy and cold. I squinted my eyes open a crack, wary of the light.

Recoiling, I jerked painfully away.

Below me lay the body of Varo, half eaten by sea life and rotting. His skin a sick and swollen, purplish-green. One eye a milky white and the other an empty socket. His face forever burned into my mind, twisted in a death-smile.

A shadow moved over the sand.

I turned my head to see...


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter is going to have a different flow than the others, because I am trying to compress a lot into a little short bit. The next chapters will have more gory brutality, but this is important to plot development. This is the end of the 'Golden Age' Arc if we are to speak in 'Berserk' terms.

Warning... Really dark shit beyond this point. If you can't sleep at night after reading this, don't blame me. Its not my fault you are an idiot.

Warning... If you are not an adult, I advise you wait a few years before coming back to this.

Warning... I warned you three times. Don't continue if you are not a fan of gut twisting cruelty.

If you report me to the moderators for outrageously evil writings I will track your IP. I will find you and fuck you up good and proper.

I don't want a single review for offending anyone or making you cry. I don't give a flying fuck how you feel. I'm not writing this for you. It is my way to express my rage in a safe outlet. If you are a whiny little bitch who can't take a lot of gore... Fuck off!

On with the horror... Don't blame me if you can't handle the ride.

_A little girl. _

Very skinny and completely naked, she looked malnourished. She couldn't be older than six or seven. Stringy black hair and wide brown eyes. She looked at me with an expression of amazement. white chipped teeth and very chapped lips. Ashy black skin.

_The Summer Ilse?_

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Water." I croaked.

A strange sight to see a little kid not crying in the middle of a beach awash with rotting bodies. Where are her parents?

"Water." She parroted back to me with an even larger grin and stood still next to me, but, out of my reach.

_Strange accent._

I rolled over onto my back with a grunt. I gestured toward my mouth and repeated the request again. I think she understood that time. She ran into the jungle-like woods behind me.

My arms continued pulling my weary and waterlogged body farther up the sandy beach and toward the shade of a tree. The ground is more rock than sand here and easier to drag myself over.

_I want to live. I never want to fight that Tyrek giant again. _

A large ocean worn rock with a fern overhead is where I finally stopped. I leaned back onto the rock and relaxed.

I started to access myself for injuries. I was used to fighting exhaustion to treat my own injuries. Ever since a Maester had told me that leech bleeding was the best cure for an infected cut, I had been my own doctor. I had four medical certifications in my past life and could take care of myself better than the assholes here anyway.

Sunburn across the front of my body. From mild to severe in different places.

Heat stroke.

Dehydration.

Muscle cramps from the heat stroke and dehydration. My whole body hurt. I had survived worse than this before. If the little girl came back with water, I could recover from this enough that in a couple hours, I should be able to walk.

_If she came back._

The sunburn may form blisters in a few places. If I kept from popping too many, I should be able to avoid too bad an infection. My immune system was very strong from the exposure it received in the last few years. I noticed some differences from the last time I looked at myself.

My legs and arms were thick with muscle. My hands and feet far larger. Maybe the effects of wine of courage mixed with a lot of dragon's blood. I had rippling muscles across my abs and chest. I could feel them twinge in pain with every movement. I will have to learn to fight again with this size. If I live through this.

_If the girl brings water. _

I hope she comes back. First time in my life I have ever wanted a little help from a naked child before. Maybe it would have been better to marry the Down's Syndrome girl. I wouldn't be in this situation for damn sure. I'd probably be balls deep in the Fat-asses' wife right about now. Fuck if I turn down the easy life to go on a damned fool's adventure ever again.

The little girl came running back through the woods and quickly spotted where I was at. She held up a large coconut and smiled again. "Watta." She mimed eating back at me. I don't know if the actually understood the meaning of the word. Coconut milk is just the right thing right now though.

I felt relief. I nodded and held out my hand for it. She threw the coconut at me. I flinched away and brought my arm up to guard head. It struck me in the stomach and landed on my lap. I barely felt the tap of it on my stomach.

I fought through the agony of moving to rest the coconut on the rock next to me. It hurt even more to lift a stone and beat at the pulp. I hit it a few times with my weakened strength and managed to crack it through the thick green pulp. I brought it up to my mouth to sip a few drops.

If I drink too much I will vomit. That would be the worst thing right now. I need all the fluid I can get. I continued sipping the coconut in the shade with an ocean breeze as the sun dipped lower in the sky. I watched the birds feast on the remains of the men on the beach. The little girl sat near and stared at me mystified, with a innocent smile on her face. I don't think she had seen another person before. She didn't behave like I would imagine a feral child to though. No barking like a dog or the like.

After the milk ran dry I pointed to the coconut and motioned to my mouth again. "Water." I said again. She looked back at the coconut confused and back to me. She pointed at her mouth and back to the coconut. "Watta."

I mimed drinking from it and she caught on. She dashed back into the woods. I watched the gulls fight over an eyeball one had managed to rip out of a sailor. The sun would set soon. She soon returned with two more coconuts with the silly grin still on her face. I cracked the first one open and pushed it toward her. She grabbed it without getting too close. Little kids can't go all day without eating or drinking anymore than I can. Kids were always my soft spot.

The only thing on television to really get to me were those horrid commercials with the starving kids of wherever living in shitty mudded streets. I can't stand watching little kids in pain. I doubt she could open these coconuts as easily as I could, even in my condition.

As the sun went down, the little girl came closer to sit on the rock near me. She fell asleep with her little head resting on my giant leg. I didn't stop her. I don't want to traumatize the feral child more than she must be already. I wonder if she has ever seen anyone before. Is someone looking for her?

_In my existence in this life... This is the most at peace I have ever been. _

I watched the twilight sky move from the purple and blue into a shade of black and blue. The unfamiliar stars and a moon that was a little too big shone bright. The gulls continued to feast. I leaned back into the rock and watched the star twinkle until I drifted off to sleep.

I am somewhere on the coast of Essos I think. I have no where to go. If I traveled to a city, I would be a poor beggar. I don't want to be a sell-sword and fight never ending skirmishes for chump change. I have no interest other than enjoying the time I have left before I go back to wherever the next life is. The zombie apocalypse was coming for all living anyway. Going back to Westeros would be a death sentence after running out on the Queen.

Really... Nowhere to go.

It is nice enough to stay around here though. Plenty of fruit trees. No taxes or lords.

_Maybe being alive isn't so bad. _

666 666 666

_One month later. I think...Maybe a little longer_

"Shh." I hushed Parrot as she waited in a tree above me. The name I called her because of her mimicking. The way she climbs though, I should have called her monkey. She had learned a few words, but we mostly communicated with body language and hand signs.

I listened hard for the sound again. The grunting snorts and rustling leaves as a boar's snout searched for food. I was hungry. Fruit becomes boring after awhile. I wanted meat. I heard little squeals coming after in loud rustling. Piglets. Even better.

I felt my heartbeat speed up. The usual rush of hormones did their thing.

The snorting search for food stopped. Momma pig smelled me from fifty feet away. I threw the stone in my hand. It landed somewhere in the clearing between us. She came charging out of the bushes squealing up a storm. Ready to kill anything near her babies. I can understand the feeling now. I don't want to end up like Tom Hanks without Wilson the ball. I don't know what I'd do to someone coming to eat Parrot.

A sharp cracking sound echoed over the now shrieking squeals. I took a peek through the bushes I sat in. I glanced up at Parrot. "Stay." I said. She nodded back. She was a quick learner.

As I rose from the bushes, the squealing grew louder still. I walked slowly across the clearing. The sow hung a few feet off the ground. She was caught around the belly. The fresh rope was starting to fray under the weight. I need to set the next one a little farther forward to catch the neck. It will save some hard to make rope. The little piglets fled into the bushes as they noticed me.

I could see the pure animal hatred in the sows eyes as I thrust the stone knife into her throat. I punched the top of her head to render her unconscious before the rope breaks. I walked over to a tree on the far side of the clearing and let the tension loosen enough to get it off the sow. The tree creaked and swayed as it was allowed to straighten for the first time in a few hours.

I whistled you universal call for a dog and little Parrot came running back over to me. I patted her one the head and pointed to the branches above us. "Get rope." I said. She smiled again. "Rope! Rope!' she repeated as she climbed the tree. I couldn't have set the snare without her. She followed me everywhere I went. Did what I did. Said what I said. She reminded me of my little sister 'Sarah' mixed with my dog 'Wednesday Addams'. I can't remember what they look like anymore.

Are they still alive somewhere? I had not thought of them in a long time.

_I wouldn't be alive without her. _

After gutting and bleeding the big pig we started on the way to our lean-to. I thought about what I had done over the past month.

I had gotten a few arrowheads out of the remains on the beach on the day after I woke up. I had been up and moving by dawn. New pink skin, a shade darker than before. My sunburn had healed over-night. I don't know how. My skin had not even peeled. It healed...

As I walked over to the half eaten bodies that day. I had seen a couple of broken arrow shafts sticking out of some of the crewmen. It was quite disgusting to pull them out of the hard rigor mortise flesh. Green, purple and bloated, I don't know how the gulls withstood the smell.

As I dug my nails into the putrid flesh, I noticed a big difference. My hand was twice the size of any man's on the beach. The little girl barely rose higher than my knee when I stood. I was far larger than The mountain had been. I don't know by how much.

Five iron arrowheads were worth quite a bit to me though. The vegetation in the woods was pretty close to subtropical. I kept walking east on that beach for a couple days with the little girl following. I spotted quiet a few fruit trees and made sure we both drank a few coconuts.

On the third day, I found a stream of fresh water heading into the ocean. I came across no roads or signs of people. I picked the little girl up and carried her piggy-back through the jungle, we followed the small river to it's source. After another three days of walking through the jungle, I found the spring coming from a bat infested cave. It was at the foot of a mountain. I spent the time after that making a lean-to an hour or so downstream from the cave. I put it under an overhang to protect from rain and far enough away from the river to keep the danger of a flood down. Making fire and gathering saplings to split and braid took up most of my time since then.

Making little snares to catch small game and teaching Parrot to be a little more civilized took up plenty of time. My feet did not get cut on the ground anymore and I saw no need for clothes. I wanted to to escape life with other people. Wearing them just means you are self-conscious about people seeing you in this environment. I wasn't shy, and it was not cold. I had a belt that I wore to keep the best badly chipped flint knife I had near. Other than that, I just stayed as naked as Parrot.

I ripped the skin off the sow first when we reached home. I used an arrowhead to cut the legs and belly of the wild pig and tossed the rest into the creek below. I wrapped the pork belly and legs in it's skin with a lot of fruit. Parrot was bringing big armfuls of clay over. She learned quick. I caked clay all over the skin and let it set for a little while. I went to join Parrot for more clay. We would need a lot for this. After covering it all and molding it into a square shape, I hefted it over to the fire pit. I set it in the middle and piled sticks on top.

For the entire night and the next, I kept the fire going steady around the big clay square. I made more rope and taught Parrot some more knots. I moved the fire over to the other side of the 'not-even-a-hut' and let the meat vessel cool. When the sun started to dip, it had cooled enough for me to crack the clay egg open. If you have ever left a pressure cooker going for a couple days full of ham and fruit, at low heat, you know the smell. The skin stuck to the clay and formed two giant bowls as I split the vessel down the middle.

I drank pineapple juice from a gourd and ate sweet sweet ham for two days. Parrot and I ate all we could before it was inedible from age. My belly was quite full of meat anyway. The piglets were still clumsy and quite easy to catch. I would show parrot how to whole roast pig next.

My pineapple juice was starting to ferment. Why did I not go live in the woods in Westeros? Sure beats the existence as one of the Mountain's merry men.

_This was the life._

666 666 666

_Three full moons later. I lost track of the days a long time ago..._

The rain fell hard and fast. The overhang above my 'now-more-of-a-hut' looked like a waterfall. The creek started to rise. It had been raining for two days or so and doesn't loot like it is letting up any time soon. If it doesn't stop soon, we will have to leave our home.

Rain kept falling for days. As far as the eye could see was flooded. I tried to keep pace with her as we made our way through the trees to the mountain. We made it after a few hours. The slick branches made it slow going in the rain.

After we got to the mountain, we rested for a day. I started teaching her th song. She did as her namesake and picked it up pretty quickly.

The day after that we climbed our was up a goat path to the peak through the drizzle. I was kind of used to the rain at that point. My muscles were not even tired anymore. I carried a couple hundred feet of rope, coiled over my shoulder. It had taken nearly all my time to twist and braid. My hair was still a golden color and reached mid back now in a shaggy mane. I grew a decent golden beard to match my wild look.

Little Parrot no longer had the swollen belly of a sick and starving child. I made sure she ate more than twice a day. Rain or shine. I feel a little guilty for keeping her in the wilderness with me instead of a pretty house in green field with pizza and television. Those don't exist in this world though. Only blood and death. Hatred, greed, and war. Even worse for females here. What I wouldn't give for a Buddhist temple of peace and love to pop up out of nowhere.

I don't think any natural man was as strong as I was now. The dragon's blood had done something to me. I could reach into fires and handle embers without burning. I could rip thick branches off of trees and throw boulders of massive size. I must be somewhere near nine feet tall. Like a chimpanzee, my strength for outweighed my size. I was no Superman or Goku for damn sure. I think I could whip a Gorilla in a grappling match with little trouble though.

When I saw to the east over the top of the mountain, I saw a river. The little creek I lived near for months was not a spring fed creek. It was runoff from this river, channeled through underwater caves. We spent another day in the drizzle traveling back down and around the mountain. I spent another couple of days using a stone hand-ax to gather logs. My strength paid off in this. It would have taken weeks to do with a regular man's strength.

A little girl deserves better than living in the jungle with a wild man. There is bound to be a town or city somewhere along a river this big. Rivers attract people like a moth to a flame. Men as strong as I am should not have any problems with money after cracking a few skulls. I should easily be able to afford to give Parrot a comfortable life. She will never have to face the hardships like this again. I will kill anyone who gets near her to try and make her unhappy.

Her skill with tree climbing seems to be because she is used to these floods. Maybe her parents had died in one? Maybe they were still looking for her. She saved me. I can't remember smiling before I met her. Her happiness was infectious. She not only saved my life, she saved my soul.

_I would save her. _

I used the rope I had to tie together a small raft. Big enough for both of us to lay and sleep on. I spent a couple of days finding as many coconuts as I could and twisted a few saplings into a web-like basket. I got a long and straight tree trunk to use as a pole. We set off east along the river.

She chattered her gibberish at me, mixed in with a few words in the common tongue. I think she actually did speak a language of some kind. She was learning mine as I started to pay closer attention to her words. The rain slowed after a few days. Most of those days she laid on the raft under big woven palm leaves to stay dry and talked.

I talked about Tom Sawyer and Harry Potter. She talked about something else. We sang. Ate coconuts that I could crack open with my bare hands. She got the ABCs perfectly. I bet she is one of the only if not the only girl in the world that knows that song. I liked to hear her talk and she liked to heard me talk.

Every night, I pulled the raft ashore and slept leaning against a tree. It would wake me up if the raft moved back into the water. Every day, I poled against the weak west flowing current, heading east, up the river.

I pulled ashore a couple times to pick particularly pretty flowers for Parrot. I eventually dreadlocked her hair. I showed her how to dreadlock mine. I tied colorful flowers into her hair and she into mine. It was relaxing. Just going up the river. Going to find a better place for the kid. I started to finally understand some of what she was saying. She spoke Myrish I think. A slang version of Valyrian that all the Free Cities have a version of. She referred to the raft as mir. 'Home' I think it means. Thats why my guess is Myr. Otherwise, a little girl alone in the jungle invented language on her own.

I saw all kinds of animals. Alligators, Otters, Giant snakes. You name it, we saw it. I think I saw a big ass tiger stalking through the trees once. My skin darkened a few more shades until I had a nice tan color. Parrot's Wesley Snipes complexion was just as immune to sunburn as I was to depression.

_I can't remember being happier. _

A moon and a half or so after setting out from the 'Rainy Mountain' we met another river. This one was the mother river that fed the one we were on. It was flowing roughly north to south as far as I could figure. I poled us into it and we began to drift south. I slept on the raft, as we wouldn't drift backwards in the night.

It had a fairly strong current and we drifted far faster down this river than we did up the other one. The river was wide enough that there was an actual breeze that blew on our backs with the sweet smell of flowers and fruit. The alligators were thick here. I made Parrot climb a tree when I went ashore to find food as quickly as I could.

I killed a strange spotted cat on one of these trips and brought Parrot back a couple fangs the size of her thumb. She made some string from my hair and wore them like a necklace. It was cute. Like a little Tarzan princess.

Although I live a more savage life, I was never more civilized. My mind did not wander off on ways to kill people. I didn't think about torture or how to get gold. I didn't plan or plot to murder anyone. I felt more normal than ever, rafting naked through the beautiful jungle.

Another moon or so we drifted down the river. We saw many strange things. Massive ruined towers with no one around. Motionless statues of men dressed in rags. One question bugged me a lot...

_Who took the time to put clothes on a statue in the middle of the jungle?_

It started to get foggy a day or so downstream from the massive ruined tower. A thick fog that darkened the the forest on the sides of the river. Strange thin statues of men line the banks of the river. It is creepy. I can't help but feel that their eyes follow us every time we pass one.

Parrot spends the next few days closer to my side or tucked under my arm as we sing or talk. She feels safe with me. I wouldn't let anything hurt her. I would die first and tell her so. "That cat couldn't harm me. You think a weird skinny statue can do anything to me?" I asked as I tickled her sides.

"Nu uh" She manages to get out through her laughs.

Ruined towers or houses become more common. As do the strange statues. They have very pretty architecture. Fluted columns and delicate looking arches were a common theme. It must have been truly breath taking to see them as they were meant to be. Without all of the moss and thick black vines.

A few days into the fog, We came upon ruin after ruin. An entire city of palaces. The most beautiful place I have ever seen in any life. With the sight of this city, I felt I should know it. The only thing I could compare it to would be how Venice would have looked if it were built by the elves of Rivendell then left to age in a swamp for a thousand years.

Statues of men lined the ruined walkways of the city. How it must have looked in ages past with water flowing in the ruined fountains. We passed a great domed building with flowers carved from stone all around it. Giant beautiful bridges that were in ruins that once spanned this river connecting one side of the city to the other.

I stood at the front of the raft and dragged the tree trunk across the bottom of the river to slow us down as we gawked at the wonderful ruined city. Near the end of the city, the ruins became less common than the strange statues. We were going under the last bridge of the city. I was watching the city behind us and Parrot was sitting at my feet looking up at the bridge we were going under.

"Tyrek look." She pointed up.

_A statue was waving at us._

I turned to get a better look and felt my foot slip on the slick log under foot.

So great was my surprise that I forgot what was under my massive body. I dropped to a knee to avoid falling into snake and alligator ridden water as I had learned to do over the last few months. I dropped to a knee with a wet squishing and popping sound. I felt her fragile little bones shatter as my knee met the wood.

I looked down in anguish at what I had done. Her eye looked at me with an expression of confusion. Her mouth was open and her inside leaked out in a slurry of organs and blood. Her little black eyes blinked once before clouding ever with death.

"Noooo!" I wailed like a wounded dog and cradled her little broken body to my chest. I cried for days or weeks, I don't know. Night and day lost all meaning. I ran out of tears and drifted in and out of consciousness. I saw awful hallucinations.

She was gone.

Never to laugh or smile again.

She saved me and I killed her. Just squished her like a bug. She wasn't supposed to die like this. She was meant to die of old age in a palace in some beautiful place. Not like this.

The trees ended and a great field of grass ass far as the eye could see stretched into the horizon. I jumped off the raft and pulled it into the grass away from the river.

I started digging with my bare hands. Moving dirt and stone, I dug until my hands bled and kept going. I dug until I could hardly climb out. I pushed the raft into the hole. I carried the Innocent girl's body into the pit and laid her on the raft.

I have been to the afterlife. Barring myself, its a pretty painless place. Warm and comforting.

She will be safe there. Safe from this life and safe from me.

I spoke to the sky.

"I miss you Parrot. I will make this world a place you would have loved to see. It's not as nice a place as I told you it was, But, I will make it better. I promise!' I finished with a yell.

I filled the hole I dug and wandered naked into the endless sea of grass.

AN: Motivation other than just greed to conquer the world. A big difference than generally benevolent yet tyrannical behavior. This one will have a man who believes he is right for more reasons than mental superiority. A mission and goal with slightly deeper meaning. Making the world safe for future generations of little girls.


	11. Chapter 11

The river in the last chapter is called the Rhoyne. The ruined city is called Chroyane. The statues are diseased men. Google 'The Sorrows'. You should read the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series if you did not know about the stone men. Those places should be in the next season of Game of Thrones, unless HBO cut it out like a lot of other things. Jeyne Poole's fate for instance.

On with the madness...

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The grass was without end. An endless grassland. This land was vast. The wind blew over the grass and made it look like the waves of the sea. This was the Dothraki sea. And endless landscape of great peace. Flat, with many shallow creeks and abundant wildlife.

I sat down near a creek, and thought about a plan. How to save this world from the Zombie army. How to save the the living from themselves. The first step of the plan formed.

I have to let the grief go. Time is of the essence. I started to run south. Faster than any horse. No man in this world has ever run at the speed I am moving. I ponder the steps necessary to save the world. I run without tiring and think hard about the state of the world.

My thoughts went like this.

The Dothraki Sea is the best farmland in the world. The most beautiful sunrises and sunsets. The rain is light and regular. The temperature always in the Goldilocks range of not too hot, not too cold. It had only one problem.

The people.

Ask a man from the mighty city of Volantis what he thinks about the Dothraki.

"Fucking primitive savages. Those Horse-Lords are dumb as dirt."

Tyrosh, Myr, and, Lys have been at war off and on for three hundred years. Their populations are in the millions. They struggle to farm enough food to eat and fight over a small swath of desolate land between them. They trade for food mostly. When one starts to farm the 'Disputed Lands', one city or both will attack to keep the other city from growing too powerful. All of them hire massive armies of sell-swords to do battle with each-other.

Ask a man from any of the cities. "Why don't you just farm the fertile land a little west of you? It is green and populated by nothing but savages. Couldn't you hire sell-swords to protect those and ship the produce easier than fight over the wasted lands endlessly?"

"Are you crazy? There are not enough sell-swords in the world to fight the horde that would descend upon trespassers. A waste of time I tell you. We don't need that dung ridden grassland anyway. Leave it to the savages."

Pride.

Pride that they are superior to the many, many millions of nomadic warriors that ride the most fertile land in the world.

Bravos hidden in it's sheltered cove. Volantis hides behind the thick black magical walls raised in the ancient times by the Freehold of Valyria. Built for a single purpose. Built by a powerful civilization with near godlike magical powers and riding the backs of dragons. They built it to keep the dominant race in the world from crushing them.

Its why the Andal people invaded Westeros. Why the Rhoynar fled to Westeros. Why all of Essos's civilizations are either slaves of the Dothraki like the Sheep-men, or on the coast in a walled city.

Written history may say differently. Who writes the histories though? Certainty not the Dothraki. What would they write?

We got bullied by the so and so... They kicked us off our land... All the other land belongs to the Horse-Lords who would slaughter us like sheep...

Thousands of years of close bonds with the horse have had an impact on the body of a Dothraki. They are were literally bred to be calvary. Leaving the weak or unfit to ride to die in the dust. Thousands of years of eugenics transformed them. Bodies born and bred for the purpose of militant calvary. Anyone unfit for the lifestyle was weeded out and left to die in the dust of a Khalasar.

The people were well adapted to their lifestyle. The few defeats the Dothraki had faced against others were the fault of ignorant and stubborn leaders. They are so well adapted, that their virtues became vices.

The Battle of Qohor for instance happened four hundred years ago.

Khal Temmo had a horde of twenty thousand riders. Qohor had a large force of heavy calvary and had sent for three thousand Unsullied from Astapor. They also had two different Sell-sword companies.

During the first day of the fighting the Dothraki were unmatched. Qohor's forces were shattered, with its heavy horse annihilated and the hired sell-sword companies fleeing in the face of hopeless odds. The Dothraki retired to their camps to drink, feast and rest before their final assault at the break of dawn. However, during the night, a reinforcement of three thousand Unsullied reached the city. Come dawn, the Unsullied awaited the Dothraki horde, arrayed in battle formation before the city gates.

In their contempt for infantry, the Dothraki riders launched a direct frontal assault in an attempt to simply ride down the heavy infantry. Eighteen times they charged and attacked the Unsullied ranks and thrice their archers wheeled past raining arrows on the Three Thousand, each time failing to break through. Twelve thousand Dothraki died. They cut off their braids and threw them at the feet of the Unsullied.

Charging light calvary straight into an armored line of spear-men eighteen times. Eight thousand Dothraki decided that defeat was a better option than fighting the six hundred surviving Unsullied. They never even considered another option. Such an idea as flanking never occurred to Khal Temmo. Mowing them down with arrows from a distance also never occurred to him.

Pure Idiocy.

Their idiocy had a bright side though. A very simple one I could exploit to my advantage.

If only I could speak the language, had dark and almond shaped eyes. I could slaughter a hundred Khals and they would not accept me as their leader. I would need another way to deal with them.

The way they treated little girls was unforgivable. Perhaps Parrot had been one of them? Driven away into the forest to escape rape from some massive Horse-Lord. I would exterminate them one day. The little girls in Westeros suffered just as badly, though. I want to help them too.

A plan was needed. Meticulous, cunning and ruthless. As the great Emperor Palpatine plotted his way to success in a way his enemies were blind to, I must do the same. Not to build a super-weapon space-station or declare myself Despot of a galaxy. I must claw my way to the top of this divided world and lay down my own, unbreakable law. I must do this before an army of what could be considered Super-zombies scatter across the ocean floor and kill every little innocent in the world.

The wights were immune to all forms of injury, other than fire. Based on my knowledge, Obsidian/Dragon-glass, is another form of fire. Cut the head off, the body still comes at you. Cut the hand off the body, it will crawl towards you on it's fingers. Super-strength is vaguely remembered. The army of George Martin's nightmares. The only real way of killing them I could see would be to invade the land of 'Always Winter'. They had to be stopped before they got into the ocean.

Skagos was proof of that.

I had my own skills to draw upon other than brute force. I am from a world where one battle lasted five months and killed two million men. I had read the greatest works of History's greatest generals and conquerers. Politicians that become Emperors. Princes that became beggars. Peasants that became Kings. The tactics of ancients and new was still in my mind. Buried under mountains of memories of hate and mindless violence. More recently ar memories of love, and for the first time, affection of a father and teacher.

Memories of Hannibal and the Punic wars. Xenophon and his journey. Alexander's rise and fall. The politics of Sulla, Pompeii, and, Caesar. Augustus and Antony/Cleopatra. Saul and David. Fredrick the Great. Theodoric the Great. Nero. Attila. Napoleon. Kublai Khan and his Grandfather. Machiavelli. Pope Alexander VI and others like him. Saladin. Alexander Suvorov. Lincoln. Sherman. Oliver Cromwell. Vegetius. Procopius. Tacticus. Sun Tzu. Aristotle. Corbett. Lenin. Churchill. Tse-Tung. T.E. Lawrence. Hitler... those are just the non-fictional ones.

I have read and analyzed their strategies. Seen their rise and falls. Seen what works and what doesn't. I have knowledge of hundreds of the most cunning, brutal, and, intelligent masters of men either of my worlds had ever seen. In this world though...

I am probably the most educated man in the world. Even the Arch-Maester of the Citadel would be cowed by the vast amount of books I have read. The games I have played. At this moment, the education is worthless. My knowledge is worth less than a grain of sand where I am now.

Alone.

Naked.

Friendless.

Penniless.

Lost.

Running out of time.

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A settlement in the distance. I could smell the stink of shit and unwashed bodies. Grass huts lined the dirt path as I drew closer to the 'city'. The poorest or slaves must live out here. No horses were present. The people were as tiny as all were to me now. They seemed unreal. Unnaturally small. Shying away from my large size and the apparent savagery my poor clothes suggested.

I wore some crude leather cloak tied to my waist as a kilt. A few belts tied together made a belt to fit my own waist. A fat purse full to bursting jangled from the belt. A Dothraki's sword was dangling next to the purse. The curved sword looked more like a knife on a man of my size.

The Dothraki and his three friends had quite the haul of gold on them. Buying things was not in their culture. Taking things that others value however was.

Maybe they were outriders for a large Khalasaar. Maybe they were four brothers, out on horse-back, searching for their lost sister. Doesn't matter a bit now though. I came upon them at full sprint from behind and snapped all their bodies like twigs in a hurricane before they had time to cry out.

Children stopped playing and stared at the largest man they had ever seen. Slaves and small0folk stopped working and started staring in fear at the giant, wondering what trouble he would cause. I got to what seemed the poorest and most ramshackle section of huts and let out a yell.

"A gold coin for anyone who speaks the common tongue!" I shouted in my deep voice. "This one does, master!" I heard a shout behind me. I looked in that direction.

A round man sat on the seat of a wagon, pointing at the wagon's bed. There were six or so people sitting in the back of the wagon. The slave master had bright green hair and a long forked beard. As I walked closer to the wagon, I examined the ones inside.

Five Valyrian-white haired boys and one skinny brunette headed girl. The all wore metal chain collars with a 'O' ring in the slaver started to speak as I got closer. "You would get a much better price at a Volantine auction in the city, but, I understand if you are in a hurry. A gold for her is more than fair. She causes a great deal of trouble" He gestured to the brunette with a grimace.

The girl glared at him, silently. "She also speaks Ghiscari and Valyrian. I got her back in Tyrosh a few months ago. She was a ship's girl and they lost her to the dice." The slaver smiled and showed off a few of his gold teeth. "I'm sure a man of your size will have no trouble keeping her under control. I have had these boys fuck her half a hundred times and she still mouths off. Ack!"

The fat man's next sentence cut off as I snagged him by the neck and lifted him off the seat. He kicked and chocked as I lifted him up above my head. His little fingers tried to loosen my grip around his throat. The slaves sat motionless in the wagon. The girl had an expression of satisfaction on her face as the boys turned their heads down or away.

The slaver's face turned from red to a shade of color between purple and blue as I began to speak. "I really don't know your name or anything about you. I just don't like you." My hand gently squeezed his delicate throat as his eyes rolled back. When he stopped twitching, I threw him over my shoulder into a ditch like a chewed up bone.

"Now about you" I turned to the slaves. "You are all free. You girl, I will pay you to work for me. I need a translator." The boys looked at me with confusion. The girl with growing fear.

"No talk good. Talk only little common. I no good to you." She said in harsh clumsy words. I could barely understand her.

"Tell them they are free." I pointed to the boys. She jabbered something at them that made them look even more confused. I unlaced my purse while she was talking and took out a few gold coins the size of my thumbnail. I handed them to the girl and turned around to the peasants looking at my way. "Thanks." I told her.

I looked at the dirty little shanty town and spread my arms wide. "What? Did any of you see something?" Whether they understood me or not, they recognized the danger and went about their business while pointedly not looking in my direction.

When I turned around, the boys were gone and the girl was standing in front of me with a smile. "You were serious about paying me then. I'll translate anything you want for this kinda gold." She said in a very low class accent.

"I thought you couldn't speak common." I said.

"I lied." Was her reply.

"Whats your name then?" I asked.

"Pearl in your tongue." She said.

"What about in your tongue?" I inquired again.

"Well thats my business. Whats your name then, Chief?" She asked belligerently.

"Tyrek is fine. I think we're going to get along pretty well."

"Oh, well thats just my dream come true aint it?" She spat sarcastically.

I turned around and started heading toward the city in the distance. "C'mon kid, I need you to talk to some tailors for me. Then we'll go get something to eat. Hows that sound?" I asked.

"Would sound better if you walked slower you long legged freak."


	12. Chapter 12

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Breathe...

In...

Out...

This isn't the end of you.

It won't last forever.

In...

Out...

I hate the fucking sea. Bad memories of my only voyage and a healthy weariness of pirates were the main factors.

"I won't be in need of your services anymore, Pearl. It'll be too dangerous for you from here. I don't want your death on my conscious." I told the girl following me down the port's steps. I tossed a purse to her. "Whas' this for then?"

I turned around to look at her. She was holding the leather sack of coin up with a confused look on her face. "Apprentice fee." I told her plainly.

"A what fee?" She asked.

"Any craftsman worth his salt charges quite a bit to teach apprentices his craft. Pick something that you think you could make a living at and pay the fee with that. Maybe buy some tools for yourself for whatever the trade is. Crofter, seamstress, vintager. Whatever you want to do in life. You could buy a couple slaves, rent a house, and start a brothel for all I care." Her face took on a strange guarded expression.

"I've only known you for a few months. Why would you do this for me?" She inquired again. Her expression brightening more than I have seen before.

"I'm giving this gold to you because you need it. Though, do me a favor." I grimaced at this as it pained me.

"If you see little girls suffering... Do what you can to help them. Like I helped you. Alright?" I asked with as close to a smile I could get.

She nodded with a serious expression. "Stay out of trouble, kid." were my parting words as I continued to descend to my ship.

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The Executor was the culmination of three months work for the two most expensive shipwright companies in Volantis. It took another month to get it properly crewed and ready to sail. A little more than two hundred feet long and a hundred and fifty deep, she is one of the largest ships Volantis has ever produced.

The Volantines have mastered the art of shipbuilding over the centuries. They specialized in fast ocean sailing ships called Carracks. The usual Carrack is about half the length of the Executor. Volantis builds dozens every year.

It's cost was enormous. Far beyond the cost of what any Westrosi would be willing to put into a sinkable ship. Far larger than anything in the Royal Navy.

A double decked aft-castle and large fore-castle, four decks internal of space. A massive tonnage and hold for cargo. Two massive steel compound crossbows, of my own design, I called ballista were riveted to the fore-castle. It could carry half the Westrosi Crown's debt in spices and still have room for a couple hundred captives. No ornamentation decorated her hull. A large bronze capped ram protruded out of the front of the ship. White paint coated the wooden hull. Four smaller boats were suspended in the air at each side of the massive ship.

In my old world, ships this size had three decks of nothing but cannons and gunners. I made use of the space to instead have three decks of living and working space for a large garrison of soldiers and craftsmen.

A hundred slave-sailors, eighty Summer Ilse slave-archers, three hundred Unsullied, forty bed slaves skilled with stitching clothes, five fletchers, ten smiths, twenty shipwrights, two net-makers, four healers, fifteen cooks, and, myself called it home. I was the master of them all.

The Ironborn would not take me at sea without a massive effort on their part. Anything they had would in all likeliness be far too slow to catch up to my ship, much less board her. The Executor was built for the open ocean.

How did I pay for it?

With a little knowledge.

A few secrets the Myrish have yet to discover about glass. Take kelp or seaweed and burn it to ash. Mix the ash with water and boil it down to powder. Add the resulting powder to sifted sand and lime. After firing, pour the glass onto molten lead. It spreads into large thin sheets of glass.

SCA is a fabulous organization. Lots of drunken debates on how to make things with medieval hand tools.

A priceless advancement in the development of glass-making.

The idea to add rust and sulfur to change the color...

Truly priceless.

For the rich Merchant's Guild of Volantis, it was a price they were willing to pay. Three hundred thousand coins of gold was cheap to them. They will probably make the money back within the year. Every noble world around will want the new sheet glass. Especially fat old Qarth.

I spent most of it quickly.

One hundred thousand was sent to the Iron Bank of Bravos with signed contracts.

Shipwrights in Bravos have the ability to build a war-galley a day. Bravosi shipwrights are the top of the line. The gold will see two more ships that will sail to Lannisport after construction. Five thousand went to the hiring of Bravosi crews to see them to the Lannister port city next year. The ship's names shall be The Violator, The Indomitable, and, The Relentless.

Sixty thousand went to the Shipwright's Guild for expedited construction of the Executor. Sixty thousand more for it's two sister-ships to be done next year. Their names are going to be The Enterprise and The Desolater.

Thirty six thousand went to the Slavers of the city for the purchase of my crew. The Summer Islanders were truly pricey. They had to be broken from childhood similar to the Unsullied to be trained with their bows and still hold utmost loyalty to their master. Cool thing about slaves raised from birth for their job is that you get to name them yourself. Best things about them is that they are loyal and qualified. Worst thing is that they are fucking expensive.

A further twenty thousand went to the slave trainers of New Ghis to have five hundred sailor slaves trained and sent to Lannisport next year.

I had an abolitionist's attitude at the get go. That quickly changed after seeing the organization and diverse utilization of the slaves in Volantis first-hand. They were far too useful to disregard out of hand with an apocalypse coming.

Living in Volantis for eight months opened my eyes about how small King's Landing is compared to the rest of the cities of the world. How weak, the Westeros economy. The good side of slavery in a preindustrial-revolution world. How powerful the merchants. How organized and mercenary the cities.

Another eight thousand for extensive armor and good quality steel weapons for my small army of Unsullied along with ten thousand steel tipped arrows. As the armor was going to meet a lot of use at sea, I had a veritable army of armorers and leather-workers creating a set of identical armor for my Unsullied and archers.

A leather coat going from chin to knee. They are able to be laced together in the front. Inside of the coat were sewn in steel plates. When a piece is damaged, it can be cut out, repaired and stitched back in in minutes. Far superior in functionality then full plate armor. You can put it on and remove it without assistance. Their sandals were traded out for knee high leather boots. Their bronze spears, knifes, and, shields traded for steel.

I wanted to give them square shields instead of round, but, that would reduce their effectiveness at combat before they grew used to them. They were too prideful of their bronze spiked caps to ever be parted from them I was told when I bought them. Only the archers had steel helmets reminiscent of the Ancient Greeks.

They did calisthenics in their new armor for the last two months.

All coats of plates had the leather dyed red. The shields painted with the Lannister sigil.

Four hundred gold coins was the price for a nine foot sword of steel and thick plate armor fit to be worn by a giant like myself.

Compared to the massive army of the undead...

My little army and I were a fly in front of the swatter.

The biggest problem with the white walkers is information. I had virtually none on them. There was only one real way to get it. A cold and dangerous trip.

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The morning sun rose a little higher in the sky as Captain Pluto, my lead sailor, did the last inspections. By birth, I believe he was either a Dothraki or Yi-Ti. Either way, he was effective. Shouting orders and at fellow sailors as they readied to raise anchor and meet the ocean for the first time, he entertained me. Short and barrel chested with round and hairy arms, with a deep voice, he was on the top of his game.

I watched him berate a younger slave for slacking for a few more moments before making my way to the next lower deck. The fore quarter was taken up by the kitchen, larder, and, cooks. The deck was spacious enough for the arms and armors of my slave-soldiers to rest in neat rows. It was well lit during the day by the open shutters along the hull on every deck.

I headed toward the guarded larder door and entered, making my way to the kitchen. I peeked my head into the kitchen. "It smells good in here. Whats for supper?" I asked in Valyrian over the clamor of squealing pigs and clucking chickens in cages behind me.

Gordon, my 'head chef', was elbow deep, kneading, a massive pile of dough. "Pork and onion pies and bread for the breaking of fast tomorrow, Master." His massive hands busy at work as he spoke. A large round pot on a hook hung suspended over the great oven.

"Sounds delicious. All of you take a trip after cleaning tonight." I told them, before all the kitchen workers cheered. They loved 'a trip' more than anything. I had to keep the men on the ship happy with their lot in life. Especially the kitchen crew, whom I made scrub the entire tiled kitchen with lye soap every night.

A trip, was a trip to the next lower deck where 38 gorgeous bed-slaves serviced the crew that could be serviced. My poor Unsullied missed out on having such a nice master in that department. Made it a lot easier on the girls not to have three centuries of Unsullied between their legs on top of the regular crew though.

I made my way across the deck to the aft quarter. I passed the empty racks where my Unsullied's armors and weapons would rest. I heard the beating of boots down knew what they were up to. The aft quarter of the 'Kitchen deck' was occupied by the craftsmen.

My massive head poked through the door without knocking. Tim, a fletcher, started so bad that he cut himself when I made myself known.

"How many do you have done?" I asked.

"Two done and two more almost done. They loose better than anything I've ever seen before, Master." Answered Tim, who was sitting near the door, carving a hand grip.

"Bring me one then go see a healer." I told the sandy haired klutz.

A strange bow was placed in my hand before Tim left the room. A wooden section above and below the leather bound hand-grip. A steel plate attached to an oval pulley at both ends. "Give me an arrow." I called out. One was placed in my outstretched hand.

I fixed the arrow, drew back, and loosed into the door of the 'workshop'. The bow-string broke and the arrow bit deep into the door. "See about a stronger string." I said as I left the craftsmen to go back to work.

I went to the next lower deck. Rows upon rows of hammocks were strung across dozens of posts in the room. Around the edges of the room, there was enough for three men to walk shoulder to shoulder. The sound was uniform as the Unsullied and archers jogged in rows of three clockwise around the deck. Their feet were in sync as their armor creaked and groaned as new leather is wont to do. The Unsullied quick-marched with spears and shields in had as the archers held unstrung bows and wore heavy leather quivers full of arrows across their backs.

They would be do this for a couple hours more. I made my way to the next lower deck. It smelled strongly of sex and perfume. "Wendy!" I shouted for the head healer. "Yes, Master?" The white haired middle-aged lady exited the sick room. She had a kind voice and a round body.

"Make sure that this entire deck gets smoked clean tonight." I said, sticking my head out one of the open shuttered port-holes. I could hear the laughter and giggling from the door to the aft section where the 'girls' stayed. Many barrels of wine, cyvasse boards, a couple dice tables, a lot of comfortable couches and a couple feather beds were what lay in that room. No need to enter and see my own doing.

"Yes, Master." Wendy said and waited to be dismissed from my presence. I waived her away and made my way to the to the cargo hold. I took the torch as this deck was below the water-line and had no port-holes for light.

Inside were ten crates of containing layers of amber colored sheet-glass padded with raw silk. Twenty-six barrels of white wine from Yi-Ti. Thirty barrels of ground cinnamon from the Cinnamon Ilse. Hundreds of bolts of silk stacked everywhere. Fifteen crates of crossbows. Forty crates of crossbow bolts and arrows without heads. A large steel banded box sat in the back aft part of the deck, with three thick padlocks.

I kept my gold there and had the keys around my neck. Anything that wouldn't fit would most likely be sent to either bravos or the Lannister vaults in the future. Knowing how close Robb comes to sacking Casterly Rock makes me leery of depositing my gold at my ancestral seat though.

As soon as I can get my hands on obsidian at a good price and some skilled flint knappers, I will start producing dragon-glass tipped arrows and bolts in bulk.

I made my way back to the top deck. Captain Pluto met me as I rose up the stairs. "We're ready to sail, Master." He spoke in Valyrian.

"Set for for King's Landing." I ordered in the same language.

"Yes, Master."

My room is in the lower aft-castle. I opened the door to a chorus of "Welcome home,Master." Two girls laid under the covers of the bed. The room had a certain scent in it. A very particular scent.

"What did Padme do to you, Elizabeth?" I asked as I started to undress. Padme started to giggle as I slowly pulled down the blanket from their intertwined, sweat glistening bodies..

If you are ever in a Slave market with gold to burn and you find A dead ringer for Natalie Portman...

Buy her. You won't regret it.

If she happens to be on the same chain as a slightly older slave who looks like Elizabeth Hurley...

Buy that chick too. Especially if Hurley is Amidala's lover. The guilt only lasts for a few minutes.

I promise...

666 666 666


End file.
